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AMY SMITH LINTON

Bloggetty Blog, life Blog...

Modern Hazards

3/31/2017

15 Comments

 
I was tootling along in my innocuous Honda minivan, possibly singing, when my life flashed in front of my eyes.

As it does.

A montage of really good stuff, actually. Kind of like the Sports Center Highlights Reel, only the soundtrack wasn't great: just my own voice, repeating a filthy variant of "Oh, fiddlesticks!" 
Picture
On a sunny morning on the Lee Roy Selmon Expressway, a late-model muscle-car –– a Shelby or a Mustang (my apologies for blasphemy to whatever car-guy still reading after three paragraphs) –– almost smoked his tires stopping by the side of the road ahead in the distance.

Flinging open his door, the driver jumped out and assumed a classic shooter's stance: dominant arm outstretched, holding, with the other supporting, legs square, eye to the sight. The tiny, deadly, dark circle of muzzle pointing at me.

It's a testimony to hundreds of thousands of years of evolution that adrenaline hits the system quicker than the brain can process the need for it. I was already ducking a little (as if my steering wheel would offer any real cover!) before the thought of how fiddlestickingly stupid this was as a way to go: death by sniper.

Adrenaline grants the sensation of time dilation. My irritability about gun culture was accompanied almost simultaneously by a fleeting regret about the very LONG list of things left that I'd hoped to accomplish. And the lightning-flash reel of life highlights.

And then, quicker than a blink, I processed the shooter's details: a fit man in a tan uniform, sunglasses hiding half of his dark face, the light shining off what I really, really hoped was a lawman's badge. I hoped that he wasn't a man in the grips of mental illness, uniform or no. And then, the last thing I recognized: the hair-dryer shape of a radar gun.

Half of South Tampa passed before my heart stopped racing like a rabbit.
I was horrified not simply by the experience but by how I interpreted the situation without the slightest doubt or hesitation.

It felt inevitable that I would be a victim of random gun violence. Of course a shooting was going to happen. A shooting is always going to happen. Why not on the Lee Roy Selmon on that morning? Why not to me?


Weeks later, still trying to find the funny, I consider the radar gun.  My minivan's speedometer tops out at 160 miles per hour, which offers a nice element of the ridiculous ("But officer, I seriously forgot to pick up the kids! At Pit Row!").

​Still, that dark barrel? Pointing my way? Felt like doom only temporarily averted. 

​
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15 Comments
Lois
3/31/2017 10:02:41 am

OMG!
So scary!

Reply
Amy
4/2/2017 10:10:16 pm

Hey Lo -- Yup. Right off the charts scary.

Reply
George A
3/31/2017 10:45:00 am

Selman-Selmon. I'm glad to learn that the story ended well, and am particularly relieved to see that your engine oil life % is above average.

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George A.
4/2/2017 10:13:01 pm

Okay, Eagle-eye, I will quietly fix that typo. Dang, and I thought I was so hot not typing Lee Roy as Leroy.

Thank you!
And yes, I believe in oil changes. Love having a percentage ticking down right there on the dash.. Along with the "underinflated tire" warning... oops.

Reply
John C
3/31/2017 08:38:26 pm

While I'm sorry that you suffer irritation at the gun culture, I'm glad that you came out of this near-miss almost encounter relatively unscathed.

And really? A hair-dryer radar gun? In 2017?!? I guess I simply assumed that today's cop cars (with their plate-reading technology and all the other fancy crap they've got attached) would have 360 degree technology that would automatically monitor the speed of any object within their horizon. Of course, disable that techno when you get to the beach - too many false alarms from seagulls diving for taco bell...

Reply
Amy
4/2/2017 10:23:49 pm

Hey John C ---
My irritation about gun culture aside (Those ridiculous news stories involving careless/over-emotional misuse of firepower? Most are set in Florida. Like the former swat cop who shot a fellow theater-goer to death, allegedly, for texting during the previews. That just freaks me the heck out. On the other hand, I can totally commiserate with the lady who used a shotgun in an attempt to shoot off her own bunion.) I am glad to have it turned out not tragic, too. What are the chances?!

And now that you mention it, I wonder if the copper was just having his little fun: let's check out the oncoming drivers' faces! Fix their little Honda wagons!

Thanks for stopping by --

Reply
Navin Johnson
4/4/2017 05:43:12 am

Ha! Well told! Those Dodge Charger FHP musclecars'll killya! Reminds me of the time when only The Lord (and Mr Hartounian) could have saved my life because I wasn't paranoid Enough. That snippet of my own riveting Hollywood bio-drama may be seen on YouTube at 'He hates these cans!'

Reply
Amy
4/4/2017 09:39:28 am

Hey Nav:
I found this clip -- not catching the reference, I HAD to look up this video –– which gives the bonus vision of my very first car: an AMC Concord.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckqJXuW-yCk

Reply
suddenly nostalgic for Concord Hornet Pacer Gremlin Javelin
4/4/2017 06:10:29 pm

Yes! Great cameo at 0:08, plus a better version of 'he hates these cans'. ( face hurts from smiling )

Amy
4/5/2017 08:10:54 am

Suddenly nostalgic
I saw a Javelin parked at a local garage recently -- it's amazing how alien it looked. It didn't seem antique, the way, say, a 1973 Dart does, but it just looked odd. Hats off to the designer. (The internets say Richard A. Teague, so okay: Hats off to Richard A. Teague!)

I need to re-watch The Jerk. I think Steve Martin may be a genius.

Reply
bit of a tangent
4/5/2017 05:00:45 pm

Go to Steve Martin and you will find humor (gots to be a genius), but sometimes humor lives where you find it. For example, just today when our Fuller pooped out I stumbled upon the top Amazon review (of 11,379) for a Dirt Devil Simpli-Stik lightweight vacuum written by LazyLady, and I was shaking head guffaw-ing at each of her reviews. (had to share that one)

Reply
Amy
4/5/2017 10:32:09 pm

Don't judge me, but for a good giggle, read a few of these reviews:
https://smile.amazon.com/Liquid-Ass-Mister/dp/B000OCEWGW/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1491445752&sr=8-2&keywords=stinky+fart+spray

George A.
4/5/2017 08:30:14 am

My brother's first brand new car was a sea foam green AMC Hornet, which I dubbed the "Horny Hornet" much to his disgust--well the guy is a mechanical engineer, complete with pocket protector. A close friend had a sexy '63 Rambler convertible. Sadly, the days of tail fins and acres of chrome do-dads where over for both of those guys.

Reply
Amy
4/5/2017 10:37:39 pm

Hey, I think the fins-and-chrome-bits were beautiful (I took one of my driving tests on my mom's 57 Chevy Bel Air. Turquoise and white, a classic.) But the boats of the 1960's were gorgeous in their way. I had a 61 Ford Falcon that could have been my favorite -- though my college pal's 61 Mercedes sedan (code named Bandita), which I drove for a year or so after he crashed the Concord. The AMC Concord, was the tops.
Three on the tree and a floaty, vague suspension, but styling!

So, was this an older brother? I loved that sea-foam green option.

Reply
George A
4/6/2017 08:42:23 am

My younger (only) brother John. He and his bride Alice were part of my ever extending family that invaded Gulfport back in Feb. I could see you swanning about in a Falcon convertible. One with discrete dual exhausts connected to a Cobra v/8. My bride fancies a '57 T-bird in turquoise.




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