CD: B.B. King and Eric Clapton, “Riding With The King”

DIVINE INTERVENTION OF THE YEAR POST

Someone asked me to go to their church on Sunday night. I told them thank you for asking, but because of work I would miss a good part of the service. Also, I had a radio show that night at three in the morning; I couldn’t do all three things. So I said I’d visit another time when I’m not working weekends anymore. Instead, I went home and set the alarm for 1 AM to get up and be a DJ. Meanwhile, while I slept the snowstorm moved in. They said it’d be something like six inches that night, but why think about something you’re going to miss most of?

So here’s something people like me have to learn about snowstorms in Buffalo: there is an army of men and trucks that get rid of the snow, but they don’t start until about four in the morning. People that want to be somewhere at three, shouldn’t. After getting several inches of snow and freezing rain off my car I set out at 2 AM. Visibility was low and the roads were vacant of travelers. Somewhere outside of Millgrove on Genesee, I lost control of my car, slid to the left and rammed into someone’s mailbox. I never did find the mailbox. Anyway, my car only suffered two small scratches and wasn’t stuck, so I got back in the car and kept going. (I wondered, should I leave a note? And then I realized: where was I going to put it, in their mailbox?)

About three miles later on Genesee, a little past Ransom Road going towards Buffalo, my wheels got caught. I started skidding again, and this time spinning as well. As the scenery spun around I saw an oncoming truck, an awfully close, reinforced road sign (the kind with two metal posts, not one), then my own skid marks, and then the snowbank stopped me. I thought, “Huh.” The truck that saw it happen stopped, and he had a cell phone; I called my father to say I ran off the road, that I’d probably be all right but that he might want to come down just in case. As the guy drove off I then I got out of the car to look at the damage. There was none. None. Underneath my back passenger tire, however...another mailbox. I propped it up against the reinforced road sign and pulled out my shovel.

I was able to dig myself out quite easily and it wasn’t hard to decide I was going to turn around and go back home–the car was already pointed in that direction anyway, so the car decided for me. I waited half an hour for my father, then decided he was either going 22 miles an hour or got into an accident myself. Of course, one minute later he came down the road the opposite direction from me. And, of course, he didn’t notice me. That meant I had to go follow him, hazard lights blinking and horn honking. I caught up to him and he still didn’t notice me. Eventually I had to try and pass him in zero visibility to get his attention and make him turn around. I caught him another two or three miles down from where I hit the second mailbox. By now it was 4:30 in the morning, and the snow plows had passed by me, clearing my way home.

So in retrospect, here’s what happened: I got in two accidents with little more than a scratch. The only other person on the road in twenty minutes just happened to see my last accident and also happened to have a phone the second I needed it. If I had spun off the road two seconds before I did, I would have hit a sign that could of done serious damage to my car; five seconds later, and I would have hit the truck that helped me. And when I finally got a hold of my dad to end my little adventure, where was I? Right across the street from the entrance to the LoveJoy Gospel Church, where I was asked to attend just hours before. Coincidence? And the CD that just happened to be in my rotation on the ride back? The one listed above: B.B. King and Eric Clapton’s “Riding With The King.” The King of Kings, folks; ‘tis the season!


F: “Jerry?”
J: “Yeah.”
F: “Um, I’m here on Genesee. I, uh, I’m off the road.”
J: “GREAT.”