Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Ready, Aim...DON'T FIRE!
Every year when I celebrate my birthday I am extremely happy to be another year older. I don't care if I'm 85. I'm HAPPY. You see, since I was about 20, I've felt like I've been living on "extra bonus" time. I went through an ordeal that I thought was going to leave me dead and the fact that I'm still on the right side of the dirt pleases me immensely. I love life and want to live until I'm 235.
So here's what happened: my best gal pal and I were riding around town, just burning time when she saw a car that had 2 guys in it. One of the guys happened to be a person of personal interest for her so she suggested that we swap rides. The guy she liked got into her car and I ended up in the truck of the other guy. I knew of him, but I didn't really know him well. This happened back in the 80's when things were more free and easy and you didn't have to worry as much about wierdos abducting girls their own age. So I didn't think much about riding around with a guy I didn't really know.
At first the guy seemed ok; a little distracted but ok. Then he started muttering things under his breath. I tried talking to him but the conversation was pretty one-sided. Seeing as how we were in a small town out in the country the main places to ride around were on the main drag, or out in the country. I wasn't too concerned when he took a common route out of town, heading for the nearest beer store. I just figured he wanted something to drink.
Then the guy started talking out loud - and not to me...to someone else. My skin started tingling and I'm sure my hair started standing on end when his ranting escalated to yelling. He was griping out a girl that I assume was his ex-girlfriend and he got more agitated, and more agitated and even more so. By that time, I was pressed against the passenger door and was trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible.
That screaming maniac pointed the gun at my face and at the last moment, he moved the gun a fraction of an inch away from my head and fired it out the window. The sound was deafening. I could feel the blast from the gun on my cheek. Everything seemed to just stop.
I must have been screaming because I heard my voice, but I didn't realize it was me. Between the abject terror I was feeling, the shock from having a gun fired an inch from my face, and the ringing in my ears I wasn't very coherent. I finally got some of my senses back and thought about jumping out of the truck and taking my chances on how I was going to get back to town but I was afraid that if I ran, he'd think I was whoever he was so upset with, and he'd shoot again.
Luckily the deafening roar of a pistol firing in the cab of a pickup was enough to snap him back to reality just a little bit. He calmly put the gun on the seat, put the truck in gear and told me that he thought he'd better take me back to town. It was a very quiet ride. I was still crammed against the door, trying to be invisible. He was still muttering to "her" but he didn't pick up the gun again.
This story is the reason that I don't care if I get wrinkles or gain years. Heck, I'm happy to have those things because they mean that I'm not dead. Some freaked out wacko didn't think I was his girlfriend and kill me at an intersection in the middle of nowhere. I get to wake up every morning and be thankful. Because it could be so much worse.