This morning's commute started out pretty much as always...idiots on the road, tailgating SUV elitist bastards, flicking off anyone who had either a W sticker or drove a Hummer, thick black coffee, singing along to The Jayhawks at the top of my lungs. I enjoyed the scenic views of the crappier sections of Toledo while dodging the utterly endless barrage of semis. I found my exit, signaled, pulled into the exit lane, applied brakes.
...at least, I tried to apply brakes. The pedal had other ideas and sank to the floorboards. Suddenly, my life flacked before my eyes. I was assailed by a montage of scenes...a number of military bases...a selection of crappy cars...smelly bars...countless years spent making pizzas...bad paychecks...my horrible fashion choices...beer can pyramids...guitars I have loved yet stupidly sold...my cave-like high school...all the horribly awkward social situations that took place in my cave-like high school...hangovers...students with the "deer in the headlights" look...
I knew that I'd eventually get to the good stuff (starting with the Spousal Unit, my friends, and Myle's Pizza), but I didn't really have time...because the brakes finally started working. I got to campus safely, but boy, let me tell you, I most certainly increased my following distance. I also thought long and hard about how my life needs better writers...or at least a good cleaning.
Yikes! Glad to know you're alright, Mike. Prolly oughta wrap some duck tape around those brake lines 'er somethin'
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