As I was traveling over the Walt Whitman Bridge to take Lily to Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (she is fine! routine visit!) for physical therapy, the trim around my rear passenger side tire partially detached.
It was like a scene from one of my apocalyptic bridge nightmares--you know the ones where the bridge just begins crumbling and I have to drive real fast to outrun the crumbling pavement and steal and avoid death. The trim was occasionally hitting the side of the bridge, then my car and I had to remain calm because my daughter was in the car and I needed to model the type of behavior and strength we want our children to possess.
So, I very calmly said "THIS IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE! DO I DRIVE FAST OR SLOW! THERE IS NO WHERE TO GO BUT THE RIVER."
To which, my daughter, haughtily replied, "Draaaamaaah. We are almost over the bridge, just like steer the car better."
At least her haughty attitude distracted me from my visions of flipping over and over 7 times, believing that we escaped flipping over the bridge, only to flip over the 8th time and land in the river in our Mazda coffin.
We made it over the bridge, I pulled over to some area that was not a pull over area, but said "authorized vehicles only" and then in an intense a police officer was there. He got out the car and said, "I saw you coming over the bridge and I thought, 'What in the world is happening?'"
I get this reaction, a lot, friends. You are probably thinking the same thing right now as you gaze about me in my wearable sleeping bag!
Don't worry I always answer this question completely and honestly.
To the officer, I explained, calmly, that my trim flung off and was hitting the side of the bridge and I was living my bridge related nightmares and I had just listened to a story on NPR about a book about the Book of Revelations in the Bible and it really sparked a certain vividness in my living nightmare and that I was on the way to CHOP, but don't worry my daughter is fine, she just once had a brain tumor and then at some point she wasn't allowed to row anymore, you know on the crew team, and now needs PT because she has some sports related issues to work through, but she also doesn't turn in her school work, so I really don't know what to do and . .
At this point he interrupted me and asked if someone hit my car.
And I laughed and said, "Oh no! I did this myself! It was a rainy Friday, we had dinner plans with our friends the McCoaches to eat at this French place in Haddonfield and then take my husband to Brewers because he had never been. And I was in a great mood and returning home from my Nordstrom curbside pick up which isn't really curbside because there is no internet in the pick up area now and you have to go in to get your stuff. Anyway, then I ran over a recycling bin, without realizing it while listening to Lizzo really loudly. I guess I damaged the trim. My children know not to use the passenger side rear door because it is holding the trim on until such a time like this when it is apparent I have to take care of the situation. I am so glad you are here!"
The officer was not so glad he was there! He wanted to leave immediately, but instead helped me get the trim off and told me to drive safely.
I bet the dashcam footage is TOP of the LINE and could go viral. But they never share the good stuff, do they?
Anyway, the true answer to "What in the world is happening?" is that it is complicated. Like the picture with this blog--I am in my wearable sleeping bag. I wear it on the sidelines of spring sports, now. I wear in my house when my husband puts the thermostat on 63. I wear it when I want and I know everyone is looking at me thinking:
What in the world is happening?
And friends, I don't fully know, but I know it is a long story and I am just grateful that it is not wearable sleeping bag weather and I made it off that bridge before the apocalypse.