I am constantly amazed how quickly life can change, aren’t you? One minute you’re chit-chatting about nothing in particular, the next minute Everything is Serious. One moment you’re texting a friend, the next you find out Bad News. One day everything is completely normal, the next it’s Chaos.
Well, a year ago today I was just traipsing back from the airport to pick up a friend (and, for the record, NOT texting) minutes later my life was literally spinning out of control. Serious. Bad News. And Chaos.
So, there I am, driving Miss Daisy–may she rest in peace–chatting with my friend Nate about his trip to Washington, D.C. and all of a sudden I am literally spinning through the intersection. A man who was being chased by three different police departments (see all the cop cars with the twinkly red and blue lights…ok, so they aren’t actually twinkly, don’t judge, ok?) zoomed right through a red light going approximately 55 miles per hour and slammed into me, T-Bone style. I spun out of control, he kept going and, according to the 3 different officers who told me about it, a half-block later he got out of his vehicle, started running on foot, and was chomped in the gut by a ginormous German Shepherd named Blade or Shark or Monster, or something ferocious-sounding like that.
And then I was on T.V. wearing my pajamas with smudgy mascara and no bra, because, at 11:30 pm on a Tuesday, that’s how I roll, yo. Too bad I couldn’t have had a picture with the German Shepherd; we could have been on talk shows as the terrible two-some who caught that particular Bad Guy.
I was really lucky, I walked away. Granted, I was hyperventilating and shaking like a leaf, but I was walking. I wasn’t bleeding. I didn’t have bones sticking out of my body. I didn’t have cuts on my face or hands or shattered glass embedded in my scalp. I wasn’t splayed out on the asphalt in pieces. Nate & I both were remarkably lucky.
Mostly.
Except…well, “lucky” is a relative term, right?
Here’s what…I ended up with a lot of skeletal and muscle damage that I still feel every. single. day. I had class 4 (out of 5) whiplash and was in neck-traction for weeks to try and keep my neck from compressing into my spine. I had a couple of bulgy disks in my spine, and in case you have never had bulgy disks in your spine, those suckers hurt like crazy. Non-stop hurt. The muscles in my back were so stretched and torn that my ribs kept popping out of place; my muscles were not strong enough to keep them lined up neatly in my rib-cage. Have you ever had a rib popped back in? What about six or seven? What about six or seven twice a week? Gaaaah! It is something I hope and pray every day I will never have to experience again. I had perpetual bruises on my back and my chest from my physical therapist working my ribs back in place. Hello, torture. I’m telling you, Guantanamo could learn a lesson or two from my P.T.
Besides having an achey-brakey neck, shoulders and back…I had some major issues with my hips. Apparently, when I spun-out my pelvis twisted farther than my body, or my body twisted farther than my pelvis…at any rate, they did not twist together and the end result was my pelvis sitting wonky on the base of my spine. Wonky Pelvis, people. Your pelvis is supposed to be a nice triangle, not a freaky trapezoid. Do me a favor, make a “gun” shape with both your hands; index and thumb fingers out, pinky, ring and middle finger folded into your palm. Are you doing it? With your palms facing you, touch your thumbs together and your index fingers together. You should have a nice little triangle, yes? Now, this is what your pelvic bone is supposed to look like under normal, non-wonky circumstances. Now take your left hand and rotate your hand counter-clockwise until your palm is facing the floor…that’s what happened to my pelvis. Big. Trouble. HUGE. Trouble. One leg was shorter than the other, I didn’t sit flat, I didn’t stand straight, I couldn’t lie down without being in pain.
The good thing is this particular brand of Trouble is fixable without surgery. I went through–and am still doing–physical therapy to move my pelvis back to a nice, even, triangle shape. The easy part is a set of 20-ish stretches and strength-training exercises done only on my left side, to help those muscles. The excruciating part is cracking your pelvic bone. Not like Crack! broken. But like cracking your knuckles…did you know your pelvic bone can crack like your knuckles? Yeah, I didn’t know that either. And when my physical therapist did her voodoo magic and cracked my pelvis I screamed, and then I swore, and then I cried. It kind of feels like having a flat-head screw driver attached to the front of a freight train thrust upwards through your skeleton. I needed this torture treatment done at least once a week for months. A freight train, people, a freight train. Shudder.
All that being said…the physical side-effects of my car accident were not most difficult. The physical stuff was a beast–and in some ways still is–but the Life As I Know It stopping without warning was the worst. I couldn’t work, I couldn’t exercise, I couldn’t do anything of any real value to me–at the time. I hated driving, I hated doctors, I hated having to be packed in ice for 12 hours a day. I was depressed. I gained a ton of weight. I felt like I had stopped Life cold turkey and I went through major withdrawals. It was terrible. Months went by and my physical body was starting to heal but I was still a complete wreck. I hated myself, I hated what I had become. I had been full of energy, bounding along full-speed ahead. Doing Things. Going Places. Being Someone. And then it all stopped, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to make it come back. Ugh, just thinking about all this again is giving me anxiety.
I didn’t talk about it much. It’s hard to explain how everything was so different when I looked exactly the same. I wasn’t in a cast, I didn’t have physical scars on my face…I looked fine. And perhaps that was part of the problem. No one would guess that just under the slightly bloated surface I was absolutely drowning.
Every time I see a yellow VW bug I feel sad. Part of that is because I miss Miss Daisy, she feels like a real life friend (and I’m totally wearing yellow shoes today to remember her). But I really miss Life Like It Was Before My Car Accident. In so many ways it was just…easier. Sigh. I feel like I’m okay, 12 months have come and gone; I’ve been to over a hundred doctor appointments and racked up thousands and thousands of dollars in medical bills (Thank you, Insurance!*). I’m not “back to 100%” and I don’t know if I will ever be at 100%. But I’m still progressing, physically and emotionally, and that is what is important to me. It is difficult not to fall back into that depressed, stagnant, deep black hole. I keep trying to remind myself to look ahead instead of backward. It’s a daily struggle.
A million thanks to those of you who constantly supported me over the last year; but particularly to Handsome and Lurch who took the brunt of my sobbing and wallowing and who always responded positively and with undeserved encouragement. I could not have made it through this without you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
*Do me a favor, will you? Call your auto insurance company and request your PIP be increased to the maximum, allowed amount. PIP is your Personal Injury Protection. This is the dollar amount your insurance company will pay for your medical bills. Minimum requirements vary from state to state, but in Utah the minimum is $2,000. Which means that unless you change your policy, if you get hurt in a car accident, your auto insurance company will only pay for $2,000 of medical care. $2,000 will buy you one ride in an ambulance, a few hours in the E.R. and a bandaid. The maximum available PIP coverage varies by insurance company, some max out at $25,000, some at $100,000. Make the call, find out where you are at and request the maximum amount of coverage. The extra $5 a month could not be better spent, I promise you.
**Also, if you have a friend/family member who has been in a serious car accident, or, heaven forbid, they get in a serious car accident, please try and remember that it takes months and months to heal. Be kind. Be considerate. Call to say hello. Invite them to lunch. Listen to them chat/vent/cry. And then gently remind them that there is an end, it’s a long way off, but it’s there. Can you do that for me?
Firstly, thank you all for participating in my little Name My New Car contest giving me one helluva time trying to choose a name. (Secondly, Holy Comments Batman! Fifty Two! Wowza!) You had so many fantastic suggestions! I finally narrowed it down to 4 names, and then 2, and finally had to make a choice based on what kind of personalized plate I could order (which, unfortunately, will be on the Ugliest New License Plate ever… it’s all orange and tacky and will absolutely clash with red…sigh). Without further ado, may I please introduce…
<Insert Drum Roll Here>
Red Roxy, in all her sass-tastic shininess.
Congratulations to Janet from Love is Blonde; she was the first of several to suggest “Roxy” and will be receiving a fantastic, reusable, reversible canvas bag from Ruthie Pearl, stuffed with a few little odd’s ‘n’ ends; New Car scent air freshener, temporary tattoos to get into their inner-Biker Chick groove and some vampy red nail polish. The heidikins discount is still going on over at Ruthie Pearl. So, check out these adorable, reversible canvas shopper bags here, and when you find the one (or two!) that you love the best, enter HEIDIKINS as a discount code at check-out and you’ll 20% off your entire order; it’s like giving Mother Earth a hug and walking away with a souvenir.
Happy Monday.
Filed under: Driving Miss Daisy
Dear Internet,
I need your help. Over the last couple of weeks you have all been so supportive; leaving comments, sending emails, text messages, even virtual flowers to brighten my day. I need you again. I spent my weekend car shopping and am now the proud owner of a brand new car, purchased all by myself without the assistance of my dad, or my brothers, or the boy. I did my research, knew my stuff, shopped around, found the car I wanted and got the deal I knew I deserved. And now, I have a brand new shiny car that is in desperate need of a name. This is where you, dear Internet, come in handy.
I am having a contest to name my new car, complete with a prize and everything. I am still getting to know this new vehicle; personality traits, quirks, etc. But after two days I think I am able to give a pretty good description, which I need you to translate into a first and middle name, ok? The grand prize will be an adorable, canvas shopper bag from Ruthie Pearl (if you haven’t already checked them out, please click here immediately to find the cutest bags ever, complete with the heidikins discount; you’re welcome), some fun “new car” stuff that will be useful and appreciated even if you do not have a car, and possibly a few little knick-knacks thrown in for good measure. Basically, this is an awesome prize, so put on your thinking caps and give me your best suggestions -yes, that is plural, you may submit multiple names- to enter this contest just leave a comment on this post.
I only recently decided that New Car is a female; my other options included a generic metrosexual or possibly one of those weird neuter cars. However, New Car is definitely female, although not “girly”. If Miss Daisy were an actual person, she would be an adorable, small-town girl with a long blonde ponytail, sweet ballet flats and pink lip-gloss. Miss Daisy would love Jack Johnson, banana splits and Clinique perfume; she would shop at The Gap and still have slumber parties with her girlfriends to giggle about boys and discuss the latest drama on Gilmore Girls. New Car is decidedly different.
- New Car would be the wannabe rockstar with hot pink streaks in her hair
- New Car would wear a leather jacket and ride a motorcycle
- New Car is the same color as vampy red nail polish
- New Car has a black leather interior, black seats & a black dashboard
- New Car has a turbo-charged engine
- New Car is edgy and perhaps slightly punky
- New Car wears black eyeliner with smoky shadow; not “goth”, more “sultry”
- New Car is edgy with all the tech upgrades, and no trace of “geek”
- New Car probably has a closet full of retro clothes with funky accessories
- New Car definitely wears stiletto heels in black or red patent leather
- New Car has an awsome sound system and rocks out on an electric guitar
- New Car is not “cute”, she is more “sexy”
- New Car probably has a tattoo on her lower back and/or her shoulder blade
Do you see where I’m going with this? This is a brand new realm of personality for me; I am decidedly not rockstar material, have never streaked my hair pink, am nearly incapable of achieving a smoky-eye look and have absolutely no tattoos. I need your help…not that I am assuming that you, my dedicated readers, are a bunch of punky biker-chicks; although that would be totally cool. I just think that many of us have a small to medium-sized streak of biker chick buried somewhere that would appreciate a day in the limelight. Here’s your big chance! Leave me your best name suggestions in the comments for your chance at Ruthie Pearl goodness, a new car-scented air-freshener and probably a temporary tattoo -you remember the ones you got out of the vending machines at the grocery store for a quarter? This contest will be open until Friday (2 May) and I’ll have a new name picked out and posted next Monday.
Filed under: Driving Miss Daisy
It’s official, I just got the call from my insurance company; Miss Daisy is dead. Or rather, she is unfixable and will be sold off for parts. (Hmmm, that kind of makes her sound like a prostitute or something. Let me assure you, Daisy Mae is not a lady-auto of the night, she’s classy.)
Miss Daisy & I have had a great ride over the last couple of years; road trips, blaring out tunes, talking my way out of speeding tickets (what? I never speed!) and generally having a good time. My first ever blog post (here) was introducing Miss Daisy to the Internet, complete with one of the only pictures I have with my car, taken the day I drove her away from the dealership. At that point I had absolutely no readers and had no idea that this little blog of mine would turn into such a fantastic hobby, and the people in the Internet would be such great friends. (We are friends? Right? Even after my linking to my first forray into writing? Ohmygoodness, the embarassment!)
I have been looking at cars the last few days; online, while I’m driving to and from the bajillion doctor’s appointments I’ve had scheduled, more online…and I must admit, most cars are ugly. I want something cute, something girly, something turbo-charged, something “me”. This criteria has narrowed my search down to another Volkswagen Beetle (red maybe? and definitely with a turbo engine) or a Mini Cooper S. I’m going car shopping this weekend and as soon as I have a new baby to love I’m sure there will be naming contest, with prizes. Happy Friday.
Hello. Good Morning. Happy Monday.
Needless to say, what with the auto crisis of last week and current insurance acrobatics, I am keeping quite busy. So, please explain to me why the bulk of my weekend was spent flat on my back with packed in ice. No, I am not a corpse. Just ridiculously sore. I have a pretty good (bad?) case of whiplash and I am definitely feeling the repercussions. In fact, all I think I can really manage today is bullet points.
- I have been trying to combat whiplash, I spent the weekend curled up with ice-packs on my back, my shoulders, my neck. Coincidentally, I also spent the weekend freezing.
- I cannot sit for more than 45 minutes without hurting. This sucks.
- I have finished 3 books since Tuesday, reviews to be posted shortly.
- I have the initial estimate for damages on my car. Seven Thousand Dollars. [Pause for dramatic effect]… $7,000.00! Holy crap!
- The auto shop that is fixing Miss Daisy specializes in VW’s, they come highly recommended by my dealership and their building is actually painted to look like a German flag. This makes me feel much better.
- I hate my rental car. Yes, it’s fairly shiny and zippy and sporty (Pontiac G5 or something, silver), but it smells like stale cigarettes mixed with peanut butter and has these ridiculously small triangle windows on the back seat that drive me up the wall. Hello, blind spot?
- I have good insurance. I didn’t realize I had good insurance until this week. The guy who hit me doesn’t have insurance and was driving a stolen vehicle so my insurance company is covering everything. It takes a million phone calls to get everything straightened out, but at this particular point in time I am very happy with them; they are taking good care of Miss Daisy (Seven Thousand Dollars!? As an INITIAL estimate! Yowza!) and taking really good care of me. Any medical issues that come out of this accident (ahem, ouchie-cha-cha back/neck/shoulders) will be completely covered. (Thank Heavens!)
- I can’t drive at night. I was driving home last night and kept hearing other cars crunching into me, imagining a rouge driver squashing me against the cement barricades in the middle of the freeway, and what used to be a routine jaunt down the freeway turned into a white-knuckle affair with tears streaming down my face. I was terrified. Not cool.
- I have been working my butt off to be ready for the Salt Lake Marathon; granted, I’m only running a half, but still; to me this is significant… It occurred to me on Friday that I may or may not be able to complete the race due to certain back injuries. I find out today what my chiropractor thinks, suddenly the missing toenail from last weekend is small potatoes.
- I am really more upset about the idea of not being able to run on Saturday (that’s right, the race is THIS Saturday) than having to shell out a $500 insurance deductible.
- It’s that time again, I’ve been sitting for 45 minutes so I need to get up and walk around for a while, probably across the street to Starbux for some peppermint white hot chocolate because this ice-pack is freezing! Basically, this is what life is going to be life all day. Freeze Back/Neck/Shoulders, Stretch Back/Neck/Shoulders, Consume Starbux, Repeat.
- Alternate Title 1: In which I discuss how a routine trip to the airport landed me in the middle of a police chase.
- Alternate Title 2: In which I ask the Utah Highway Patrol for diplomatic immunity for services rendered, or at least a free pass for the Carpool Lane.
- Alternate Title 3: In which Miss Daisy takes one for the team, gets squnched, and I end up on T.V…wearing no bra.
Clearly, something kind of exciting has happened. Before I get into all the details, let me reassure ya’ll that I am fine. I’m a bit sore and a little achey, but I am really ok.
It was a dark and stormy night…or rather, not so much stormy but still really dark, basically a typical Tuesday night. I was picking up a friend from the airport and absolutely minding my own business, driving along, going the speed limit, just doing my thing. As I was heading towards the airport I noticed an unusual number of law enforcement vehicles; some just hanging out and some keeping busy giving speeding tickets. Note to self: keep the speed limit on the way back. I pick up Nate and he starts telling me stories about the fantastic weekend he had in Washington D.C. and I start wishing I could jump on a plane for a long, fantastic weekend.
All of a sudden about a dozen cop cars switch on their lights and start chasing somebody, they take off and I think “Oh good, they found the Bad Guy. Hope they catch him.” And not one block later whilst driving EXACTLY the speed limit (45 mph) through a green light, Nate & I are chatting away when he says “Oh my gosh!” I look out his window and all I see are headlights. And then I hear a BIG crunch and we are spinning and I see buildings going around in circles and I slam on my breaks, which aren’t really responding so I pull my emergency brake and we finally stop. I look up to see the Bad Guy continue through the intersection, seemingly completely oblivious that he a) hit Miss Daisy and b) totally ran a very red light and c) is going about 60 mph. Several cop cars are right behind him with sirens wailing and lights flashing. And then some more cop cars. And some more. And some more. Within a few minutes there are probably 30 cop cars from three different agencies swarming all over the block; Salt Lake PD, West Valley PD and the Utah Highway Patrol. I don’t know what the Bad Guy did to warrant such an entourage, but it must have been bad. Luckily, both Nate & I are fine.
And by “fine” I mean I am shaking so badly I can hardly stand up, there is no way I can operate a stick-shift in this condition, Nate had to drive my limpy-gimpy car out of the middle of the street. I am still shaking terribly, my hands, my legs… I suddenly am terrified. This could have been so much worse! If I had been 2 feet slower through the intersection Bad Guy would have hit us right on my passanger door, right where Nate was sitting. I don’t even like to imagine what could have happened. Despite the “what if’s”, Miss Daisy is not in good shape. Her entire back end is splayed out with twisted metal and pieces of plastic everywhere. I suddenly feel sick.
A few minutes later (it was probably 2 minutes, but it felt like a hundred years) another cop pulls up to us and after being reassured that we are both ok she tells us that the Bad Guy got out of his car and started running, and one of their K-9′s (that’s police-speak for “canine” I guess…wierdo’s) caught him with a chomping bite to the gut. Honestly? It made me feel alot better. And I think I owe that German Shepherd a doggie-snack.
So. Bad Guy makes a trip to the hospital to remove dog teeth from his ribs and then goes to jail. The tow truck picked up Miss Daisy and took her away (sob! Poor little bug!). My room-mate came to fetch Nate & I. The local news showed up and interviewed me, and I made my TV debut the next morning (lead story, mind you) wearing my pajamas with smudgy mascara under one eye and no bra. Klassy. (You can see the story here.) I am pretty sore and achey today, but overall I am doing ok. I went to visit Miss Daisy last night at the repair shop and she is pretty messed up, the link to the news-story has a picture if you want to see the damages.
I helped catch a Bad Guy. Granted, Miss Daisy is ripped in pieces because of it, but insurance will get her all fixed and shiny and new(ish) again.
**Editor’s Note: I keep trying to upload some pictures and a full-color diagram for your further understanding, but wordpress is hating me right now. Jerks. Will post pics as soon as WP forgives me. xox
Filed under: Driving Miss Daisy
So, I just came back from the tire place… and they can’t actually patch my broken tire, the hole is just too big. They have to order TWO new tires, something about wearing evenly and blah blah blah… at any rate, when I asked the nice gentleman if I could have the steel thingy that made this mess, he started to laugh. But, he said that it’s quite the souvineer, and manuevered it out of the rubber tread… and now the great question. This is 7.5″ long, and the head is over 1/2″ across. Is this really a bolt? Or is it a freaking steel I-beam?!? You decide. 
PREVIOUS POST: Miss Daisy and the Bolt
Filed under: Driving Miss Daisy
Last night I was rushing to and fro with a long list of things to do: bookstore, bank, dinner, rehearsal… so, I’m going along, minding my own business, picking my way through some construction on State Street when my car starts making ker-kunk, ker-kunking noises and hissing… Bad. News. I pulled over and got out to look at my tires, and while I could hear some serious hissage, I couldn’t see anything. I got back in my car and started driving again, and my car started hissing. Not a good sign. So, I got out and lo, and behold – I have an 8″ bolt sticking out of my back tire. What?!? This is my first flat, and I wasn’t in the greatest of neighborhoods, and I was wearing a fancy-schmancy dress and heels… and I was in NO mood to change a tire! Luckily, I didn’t have to. A few phone calls, a little harmless flirtation, and pretty soon a gaggle of gentlemen were volunteering to help me out. Because who wants to crawl around on the asphalt in an adorable dress? Fred fixed me up and sent me on my way, (Thanks a million Fred!) and this morning I decided to take a little photographic evidence for you all to enjoy. 
My first flattened tire, sure it looks mostly round right now, but see that shiny stick thing in the right-hand corner… yeah, that’s a steel beam bolt that jumped up and bit Miss Daisy in the behind!
On closer inspection, it’s not a bolt. It’s a freaking steel beam! Like that kind that you use to hold up skyscrapers and stuff! So, I am heading to the Tire Store this morning to see if they will fix this little mess, and get the real deal back on Miss Daisy. Who wants to drive around looking like this? Call me crazy, but I prefer four silver-rimmed shoes instead of 3 silver ones and a solitary, dusty black one.
Filed under: Driving Miss Daisy
I have never really been very interested in cars. In fact, up until I fell in love with Daisy I was more or less oblivious of cars. I didn’t drive for the first 4 years I lived in Salt Lake; therefore I didn’t complain about increasing insurance costs, speeding tickets, sky-rocketing gas prices or construction on the freeway. I happily walked 6 blocks to work, 2 blocks to the grocery store and 4 blocks to school. And when it got cold and snowy and gross, I wore gloves and a hat, or took the train. Sure, it may have been less convenient than zipping around everywhere – but I was happy.
However, since Miss Daisy joined my family (or “Urban Tribe” – you decide) I have been quite meticulous with her maintenance and cleanliness. Yesterday during my lunch break I decided to take Miss Daisy over to the car wash and let them do their magic. I hadn’t given her a good wash since I got home from Colorado Springs and frankly, she was kind of disgusting. Not only were there an inordinate amount of squashed bugs littering her Royal Yellowness, but the pigeons that have taken up permanent, year-long residence at my house have been using her as target practice. My apartment does not have covered parking. There are enormous trees lining both sides of the street, which make wonderfully leafy shade during the summer… but also provide hang-out spots for about 3,000 pigeons. And for goodness sake, those birds are little shits! Or big ones, or something equally nasty. Pigeons, probably the grossest birds around. They poop on my car, they live under the eaves of my apartment and are CONSTANTLY cooing and squaking and they shed feathers that waft in the open kitchen window. Ick.
Positives of the Penthouse apartment: wood floors, crown molding, granite counters, marble tile, enormous loft for TV watching and shoe collection. Negatives: limited AC and flocks of pigeons. Grrr….
Most of my reason behind this trip to Colorado Springs was based on a requisite 18 hour round-trip drive. I realize, that for many people that is the same reason for purchasing a plane ticket and making sure your liquids are in teeny bottles. And I think most of you know that I fly all the time, it’s not that I am afraid of airplanes, or that I don’t like them. I just really wanted a chance to get away from my every-day life and get a chance to think. The drive across Wyoming is often called the bleakest 400 miles in America. There are very few towns, very few trees, very few mountains, and a whole lotta open space. I don’t mind the drive, or sitting for 8 hours straight (hello, I do that at work every day!) and as long as I have my favorite tunes, I’m good to go. (I will say, I had a hard time finding anything to eat though – I’m not a fan of fast-food and most of the “fresh sandwiches” at the gas-stations look like they’ve been there for at least 3 weeks.)
I had a lot of time to try and work out some things in my head. I don’t know if I’m anywhere near a conclusion, or even if a conclusion is possible. But, the lack of great scenery in Wyoming sure did leave me with little else to do but fight some inner demons… which is exactly what I was hoping would happen. (Next time I drive to Colorado – I am definitely taking I-70, which runs inbetween Moab, through the mountains to Denver. I hear it is absolutely beautiful.)
