Rear View Mirrors and Birthday Cards
This picture has nothing to do with the post, besides the obvious: I should be wearing a hard hat while navigating my life., a photo by SashaWarner on Flickr.
My parents are back in town. Their return was far less eventful than their departure, at least to me - no one else noticed the drama on Robert Road at 6:46am last Saturday.
My parents like to take the train to visit my brother. They like to be dropped off at the train station by Shawn. This time around, they were visiting my brother for New Years and to partake in my adorable niece's first birthday celebrations. I had already sent ahead the gift, but had yet to deliver the birthday card and a Christmas card for my brother, four days late, but thoughtfully completed with love. Just as the truck door was closing - the door of the truck taking them to the train station - I noticed that Shawn had not picked up the two cards on the counter.
"No worries," I thought, "I'm athletic. I can scoot out the door quick and catch them before they pull away." I was right. I could get to the truck before they left. I was standing beside the back corner of the truck as they pulled out onto the street.
"Whatever," I thought, "it takes a few minutes to accelerate on snow-packed streets, so I can just run behind them and catch them. Dad is cautious, he'll look in the rear view mirrors."
Let me tell you, if you quantify the traction that rubber tires have on packed snow on a chilly morning and then divide that by about 78, you'll arrive at a number that represents the amount of traction 5-year-old sheepskin leather soled slippers have on packed snow. I now know why they are called slippers. Nonetheless, I was committed to delivering those cards. I sprinted half a block behind that truck. And you know what? They didn't look back. I was left standing in the middle of the freezing road in my pyjamas, with nothing but my steamy breath and two cards to keep me company. I came back inside, first annoyed at Shawn for forgetting the cards, then at Dad for his lack of defensive driving habits, then finally at myself for choosing to reenact Bambi on ice to try and save the 54 cent postage.
The moral of the story is: you should always check your rear-view mirrors. You never know when a crazy lady in a lime green housecoat is chasing you down, just trying to deliver a child's birthday card.