Thursday, June 23, 2011

Where Am I?

I know you’ve all been there at least once in your life.  You wake up from a good, deep sleep and you can’t figure out where you are?  Maybe it’s because you’re visiting someone and then find yourself in a room that doesn’t look at all familiar and can’t remember how you got there.  All you know is that you, shall we say, “aren’t in Kansas anymore”.  

On second thought I’ve even found myself in another room of my own home where I somehow had the luxury of falling to sleep only to wake up with a kink in my neck and disoriented.   Where am I?  How did I get here?  What time is it?  Heck, what day is it?  

While visiting with my mom I felt that way every time I got in her car.  It all started as we walked to the garage and she holds out her car keys.  “You drive,” she says.  Then she proceeds to tell me of a time, not too far gone, when she almost ran into a car because it suddenly stopped in front of her because the car in front of it stopped and how she was so scared.  She was so sure she would hit. She was sure she was just a hair’s breath away from its rear bumper when she finally stopped.  Her last accident won’t come off her driving record until September when the three years are up.  She doesn’t like driving at night either.
Driving doesn’t bother me.  I like to drive.  At least I don’t dislike it, now.  I wonder if I will when I grow up. 
I willingly seat myself behind the wheel.  Get myself situated, buckled in and insert the key into the ignition.  But the ignition isn’t there.  It wasn’t where I’ve habitually been programmed to put my key. I don’t know what kind of car you drive day in and day out so maybe your key would go exactly where this key should have gone.  I drive a Saab and when I first got the car it had to train me to put the fob (it doesn’t look like a key in any sense of the word, in my opinion) between its front passenger seats into a tiny cup-like holder thingy where it fits like a hand and glove. 
I finally remember where other cars have their ignitions and I insert the key.  Off we go, but not so fast. Backing out of the garage I find, when looking in the rear view mirror, that I see half my chest, arm, and something else that in my mind I can’t readily decipher.  Nice green t-shirt you have on there but what is all that grey, bumpy stuff?  Oh, that must be the back seat.  My mind is speedy, quick at sorting things out like that.  

For Mom’s radiation treatments we have to go downtown.  I manage fine until I got up on the freeway ramp trying to accelerate to the needed speed in order to gracefully merge with the 65 – 70 MPH (miles per hour) traffic. There just wasn’t the guts and power I was use to having when I pressed the petal to the metal of my car. 
We arrive and now it’s time to stop the ignition.  Only how do I do that?  There’s nothing there.  Oh, yeah.  The key is up by the steering wheel column and dashboard. Duh. Didn’t I tell you I was quick?
Photo taken while on a cruise.
For one excursion I borrowed Mom’s car to visit my sister.  We’ve had a good visit.  Stayed probably beyond my acceptable visiting time but I was at my sister’s so I don’t know if there is an acceptable visiting time or not.  We just stay and stay and stay until we can’t think of any more to say or we can’t keep our eyes open.  We haven’t run out of things to say, ever, so it usually our eyes telling us to quit talking.  

I finally decide my eyes need some rest and I had better get back to Mom’s.  I hop in the car get the key into the ignition.  I’m reprogramming somewhat.  It didn’t take me too long to find the ignition.  Then I realize that I can’t see a thing.  

That’s one thing about living in a more isolated area than the city I live in.  At home you can drive your car at night without the headlights on and not realize it because there are so many lights around.  Stars are kind of hard to come by as well, that is unless you’re looking for people type stars.  The inside of the car is dark.  The outside is dark.  How do I get some light?  I had to open the car door again to figure out how to turn on the headlights.  By this time I am thinking, Linda you’re not in Kansas anymore and find the whole situation rather humorous.  Maybe it was just the lateness of the night that made it all so funny to me.

Have you ever found yourself in this kind of a situation?

1 comment:

  1. I have a feeling I may experience some moments like that in August!! I'm not used to an automatic transmission, to driving on the right, to minimum speeds for certain roads.... But I shall just remember that I'm not in Kansas ;)