Passing

Have I ever told you about one of my best friends from college, Moose? First of all, let me clarify- her nickname comes not from any outstanding bulk or stubborn temperament, but from the street she grew up on (plus a certain art project). Really it's a ridiculous nickname, in light of her small, blond stature. But then I guess most nicknames are. Ridiculous, I mean.

Anyway, Moose and I used to have the most unbelievable adventures while driving. It was a running joke between us- get the two of us in a car, and mishaps were bound to happen. Fortunately, we were so used to unexpected occurrences that we could be fairly laid back about them.

Well, except that one time we spun out on black ice on the exit-ramp (while going a perfectly reasonable 15mph, I might add) and ended up with our bumper literally one inch from the cliff, perpendicular to oncoming traffic. We weren't particularly laid back during that little incident.

But usually our adventures weren't quite so near-death. Typically it just involved us ending up somewhere on the map with no particular relation to where we'd intended to go. Something about our combined bio-rhythms just completely shot to hell any ability to navigate that we might otherwise have possessed. We were particularly bad about exits- often heard was the phrase,

"Shit, that was our exit," followed by "Eh, whatever- we can just take the next one and turn around."

'Just take the next one and turn around' became something of a mantra for me- this idea that even if you screw up, you can always correct course. Maybe not quickly, maybe not easily, maybe you'll end up in some truly bizarre detours, but eventually... you can get back to where you meant to be.

And, of course, it helps to have a good friend along for the ride.


(Zoom)