Sunday, November 23, 2008

free ride

my feet hurt all the way up to my ass. man am i out of shape! good thing i didn't accept the truck unload er job, i would probable be in traction by now. but it's not all bad. i enjoy talking to the random strangers, i try to make them laugh or at the least smile. some people are more challenging than others. it helps to pass the time and it keeps me from being a complete hermit.

i still suck with my phone.
i hate when the phone rings in my car.
lets face it, i'm not the best driver in the world. lately i feel as if i have a 'slight' case of adult a.d.d. , i get distracted , have difficultly staying focused, so talking on the cell phone while driving is not a good thing for me. plus my super espn2 powers tell me that every car on the road is participating in a destruction derby and i have a giant bulls-eye painted on my bumper.

my fear and phobia of driving on the interstate, highway, freeway......

inside a moving automobile is sometimes uncomfortable for me. it is an odd and some what embarrassing phobia. tis difficult to describe or explain verbally. what happens inside my head, what goes through my mind, what keeps me from the access roads and entrance ramp....

fear, anxiety, panic.
the memories flood my mind.
i remember....
countless trips to nowhere with my father. we traveled every freeway together. he made up any excuse, spoke every unbelievable reason, detailing where he had to go, why i had to go with him.

most times he was drunk. if he didn't have a beer he stopped to buy some for the road. the bed of the old truck was littered with empty cans, an open can in the drink holder. back when, the police pulled us over, always let us go.

i learned early how to navigate the big city. when i was young, it was dangerous being trapped in the truck with him. sometimes my father would drive aimlessly for hours, other times he would park. if i knew where i was he couldn't bullshit me about how long it would take to get back home. everything was a negotiation. everything was a trade off. there was no such thing as a free ride home.

and now?
i don't drive down those roads anymore.
i already paid the toll.

1 comment:

Cas said...

I don't know how to stop bad memories. I think shock treatment erases chunks of memory, but then you wouldn't be who you are and lessons learned the hard way would be gone.

A little freeway phobia is understandable.

We won't even get started on flying for me.