As I drove home, I took a route I don’t usually take. I headed down SR-315 for a reason unknown. Anyway, at a point just north of SR-161, is where I had my accident some 2 and a half years ago.  I realize it was worse than I would like to admit, but I will say that if you know where it is, you can clearly still see the path I cut through the brush and trees.

I haven’t been past here in some time, and it really gave me a chance to reflect.  Having known the record of the cars I choose to drive (cop cars for all intensive purposes) it’s not surprising that I emerged from it nearly unharmed.  Looking at it though, I realize that there are very few, maybe no other cars that would have protected me the way my vic did.

Crown Victories, Grand Marquis, Lincoln Town Cars, etc. have always been built pretty well.  The police don’t just choose them randomly.  They have beefy engines, strong suspensions, and really do hold up rather well in a collision.  Well….the car doesn’t, but it does a VERY good job protecting the driver.

Anyway, I digress.  I don’t believe that there are many cars that would have left their drivers in as good shape as I was.  What it is, I don’t know, but I know there is a reason I am still here today.  There is a reason I choose a Crown Vic as my car.  A reason I walked away from that crash nearly unharmed.  It’s something I have thought about many times over the past couple of years.  Something that I will never be able to shake, something I will never be able to forget, something I will never be able to deny.

I know that I won’t usually admit it, nor will I usually acknowledge it, but the truth is, I fucked up, really bad.  Whether it was for better or worse, I really don’t know, but I cannot change the past.  I don’t usually dwell on it, or really even think about it, but it has been at the front of my mind this evening.

What it means, I haven’t a clue.  I have never claimed to understand the way that my mind works, but I know this.  Something caused me to drive past that point tonight.  Something caused me to dwell on it for so long.  What, I don’t know, but something.

Anyway, I have gone on long enough, I’m headed to bed.  It’s still a bit early, but I’m tired and not in a very good mood….

So I learned a valuable lesson the other day.  What you are in a room with low ceilings, and a running ceiling fan, don’t reach up.  Yes, I know that should have been a given, but when you wake up all groggy, and in the dark, it’s not the first thing on your mind.  At this point though, it’s most certainly something I will think about.

It happened late Monday night or early Tuesday morning.  I’m not really sure which since my clock’s wrong.  I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.  On my way there, I was walking through my dark room and stretched my arms up in the air to stretch.  Instead of cracking a few joints and stretching out my arms though, my left-hand pinky was hit with the blade of a ceiling fan.  At first it wasn’t really all that bad.  It was dark and I was tired so I didn’t really think much of it.  After I got to the bathroom though and turned on the light, it was a bit worse.  I got cut in three places.

So that’s my story.  Don’t fight the ceiling fan, you won’t win, especially when it’s on high speed.