When I was a kid, one clear April first mid-morning on my way home from the grocery store, I got hit by a car. I was riding my bike on the sidewalk, steering with one hand and clutching a bag with the other. Just as I rode past the edge of the grocery store building and into the alleyway that connected from behind the store, I collided tire-to-tire with a slow moving station wagon.

The force of the slow impact was enough to send me flying over my bike handlebars and onto the hood of the car. Bread and carrots flew out of the paper grocery sack. It happened so fast that it took me a minute to realize that I hadn´t hit the ground. Apart from a bang on my leg, I was a little dizzy, but unhurt and  full of adrenaline from the crash. After confirming that I was OK, the driver and I  quickly went our separate ways.

I pedaled as fast as I could, eager to get home and tell my family the exciting news. ¨You´re never going to believe it, but I got hit by a car!¨ I said.

¨Yeah Anna,¨ my brother said. ¨April Fool.¨

¨No, really. I really got hit by a car,¨ I told my grandma. ¨That´s why the bread got squashed.¨

¨Sure,¨ grandma said. ¨I´m no April Fool!¨

No one believed me, even though I had a swelling bruise on my shin as proof, until the next day when the driver of the car ran into my Grandfather at the local coffee shop. ¨I´m glad your granddaughter is OK,¨ he said. ¨She landed on the hood of my car. That kid almost scared me to death.¨

·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·

Today, when Matt came home from his volunteer work teaching Math to children in the next town over, his sunglasses were broken and he was obviously shaken up a bit. ¨I was in a car accident on the way home!¨ he said. The moto-taxi he was riding in fell into the same hole I fell into in the footbridge near our house.

He has a big bruise on his shin like I did so many years ago from my April Fool´s Day Car Crash, but I actually believe his story.

Every week, some Latin American paper runs another story about how somewhere in some South American country, some bus falls off a cliff. The bus I was on yesterday came really close to rolling backwards off a cliff and it was scary as hell. And the strangest part of the whole story happened right before I left to go to town, as I said good-bye to Matt.

¨I´ll see you later,¨ he said.

And from out of nowhere, the thought came, ¨What if I were to die today?¨ I shook the thought away, kissed my love good-bye and got on the bus to Cusco.

——————————————————————————————————–

It happened on my way home. As the bus crossed the high mountain pass just east of Cusco, heading back toward Pisac, the Peruvian police randomly stopped us and asked the driver for his credentials. I think it was just a routine check, nothing serious. Then the driver and the bus conductor (the guy who takes the money) both got off the bus to talk to the police. After a minute or two, the bus began to slowly . . . slowly, then a little faster . . . roll backwards!

Everyone on the bus noticed at the same time. Everyone looked up and kind of sucked in their breath with a quiet, collective panic at the exact same moment - because we were rolling backwards toward the edge of a sheer cliff with no driver in the driver´s seat!!

Forty sets of eyes instantly shifted to the person closest to the driver´s seat – a traditionally dressed Quechua woman who was loaded down with a manta full of something strapped to her back. She couldn´t move very easily.  

She moved like lightning, despite her heavy load, toward the driver´s seat with her hands in front of her, as though she were going to dive under the dash and try to find the brakes with her hands. Her body language told me that she didn´t know how to drive a car. My stomach began to sink. Everyone was quiet. No one had thought to scream just yet.

Then, from out of nowhere, the driver came running and jumped onto the bus and set the parking brake. It happened just that fast. One minute everyone on that bus was fucked and the very next second everything was suddenly OK again. Life´s like that sometimes.

Luckily for us, there was a separate driver´s door on the left side of the bus, so he could just hop in and not be blocked by the crush of riders standing in the front of the bus. Luckily for us, the bus hadn´t gathered so much momentum that the driver couldn´t still jump on. Luckily for us, Peruvian bus drivers are accustomed to jumping on and off a moving bus. Lucky for us.

When the bus seats get filled here in Peru, they keep on cramming the people in anyway. They’ll cram people in all the way up to the bus door. And the most annoying part about it is that about five seats back, the bus remains completely clear and open in the ailse. Normally, if I were one of those standing, I would simply push my way to the back of the bus so that I could be as far away as possible from the front door, not to mention the front windshield with no hand holds.

But if you have to get off the bus at an earlier stop than the bus station, your best bet is to stick close to the front. Just the other day, Matt and I had to ride for ten harrowing minutes in the front of the bus from Coya to Pisac. It was just a short ride. The bus was crammed, but they waived us on anyway. The conductor accidentally closed the bus door on Matt’s fingers. Neither of us had anywhere to hang on except the emergency exit in the ceiling of the bus.

All I could see besides the driver and the pavement in front of me was the bus speedometer, which was broken. The driver was flooring it too, passing other busses and cars and he had to squeal to a stop at one point to avoid hitting a dog. I felt like a monkey with my arms all stretched out, short as I am. I held onto the cracks in the emergency exit for dear life.

The bus came to a stop in Pisac. I was one of the first in line to get off. Just then I looked one last time into the bus windshield. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a little stuffed monkey, arms stretched above his head, just like mine had been.

I called my Mom today.

She told me about all the layoffs that are happening at all the plants around the rural part of the US where she and my dad live their simple life that I so admire. “Yeah, there’s going to be a lot of people hurting,” she said. “They all have these big homes and big cars and now they can’t pay for them if they get laid off. They should have thought ahead and not stretched themselves so thin.”

“I agree,” I said.

“And,” she continued, “your dad was driving a route that delivered car parts, but he’s quit that route because he’s seeing that industry slow down. He’s got a new route.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “What’s he delivering now?”

“Oh, he’s found a route delivering toilet paper, dinner napkins, paper towels. Stuff like that.” She laughed. “He figures that people will always need toilet paper!”

Indeed. For the record, I still support cutting back on paper product usage in order to save money, but I thought I’d share this little synchronicity, since I just ranted a couple of days ago about these very products. I’m certainly glad that my dad has a job. And I’m certainly glad that my mom and dad taught me good lessons in foresight.

Ahhh, everything is so inter-connected it blows my mind sometimes.

I have a history with I-20, the dark Georgia freeway that spans from Augusta to Atlanta – it’s the road that birthed my calling as an artist adventurer.  It’s been a long, long time since I’ve buzzed down that road. But I will be revisiting  that nostalgic interstate tomorrow in the early morn, before the sun rises.

The last time, I was driving from darkness into sunrise; conversely, tomorrow’s journey will see me bringing sunrise to darkness. I love it when life comes full circle.

No doubt about it, somewhere in the ether, somewhere in this collective consciousness . . . we are all connected. Believe it.

I received a random text message last night from an old high school friend whom I have known for going on twenty years now. He’s one of those old friends who continually pops in and out of my life throughout the years. We’ll completely lose touch, only to re-connect randomly and we always pick right back up where we left off as though no time has passed. His txt msg was a simple “Still Alive?” His number got lost a couple of years ago in some Chicago taxicab one night when my cell phone disappeared, and I’ve been out of touch since with no way to reach him.

So, I returned his text with a call this morning and true to form, we began chatting away as though we’d never been out of touch. I asked, “So, do you talk to anyone from school?”

“Thankfully, no!” he replied, “but I do wonder what Holly D. is up to these days, where she is, what she’s doing.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said. Then I told him he should check out my website, but he admitted that he’s not ever on internet these days.

And then I proceeded to go about my day, spirits uplifted just a bit because I’d heard from my old friend . . . when . . . I came to work and checked my email. Unbelievably, sitting in my incoming mailbox was an email from Holly D!!

The last time I remember seeing or talking to her was the night of my crazy high school graduation party at some hotel when she blasted in the door, showing off her brand new tattoo that she was finally able to get because she’d turned 18. Today she just happened to look me up on the internet and she sent an email my way, asking “Is this Anna from Smyrna? I think it’s you.”

It is! It’s me. She must have been google-ing my name as Dan and I were reminiscing about her. That’s connection. Make no mistake, when your ears burn, it’s for a reason.

I have so much to be thankful for on this Good Friday. All signs point to great things. Today I hit my “Re-Set” button.

First of all, today is the Vernal (or spring) Equinox. In some religions and cultures the Vernal Equinox is the new year. I’d like to think that this is my new year. Today is the full moon. Big energy in the full moon coupled with the Equinox and the shift in season to spring and growth also make this a great day.

But today is the day that my life is coming together, congealing and coalescing here in The Burque. By the end of today, I will no longer be homeless or car-less. By the end of today I will be living in a sweet fucking condo in a hip part of Albuquerque with a rockin’ roommate and my cat. I have not been this excited about a place since I found my bungalow in Venice. I pick up my car in one hour, pack my stuff and move in today.

Ahh, and I have today off, so I can move in properly – slowly – relishing the opportunity to truly settle, something I’ve not done in months.

This morning, as I drove through the interstate sprawl of ABQ to my second day of work, I was reflecting upon literally where I am presently located and figuratively upon where I am in life. And I looked up at that moment and spied a giant billboard proclaiming:

YOU ARE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW. (Where do you want to be?)

Wow! What an answer . . . . and how timely!

Earlier today I blogged about birds.

About two hours later, as I was walking home from the coffee shop, a bird flying by pooped on my head. I’ve done a bit of internet-based research and have found that in some cultures this is considered to be good luck, but only if the bird poops on your head. Apparently other body parts don’t count. The bird poop hit my hat, so I wonder if my good luck still counts . . .

In an earlier post today, I made reference to a saxophone. That’s because I was thinking about this saxophone player I know from around the Venice ‘hood who always rides his skateboard barefoot while playing his sax. He cruises through town bringing a sense of peace with him. And sometimes you can be out near the beach in the twilight when the cold and the fog and the wind kicks up enough to send you home . . . and then from the mist, you hear the peal of a saxophone moving through the boardwalk. I hadn’t seen him in probably a year or more.

Today is sunshiney and windy. I just got back from a quick skate and I’m rolling down the boardwalk, the wind pushing me fast. I look up into the people ahead and my eyes rest on a glint of sun coming off of a stationary . . . saxophone! No way . . . I’m thinking, and grind my stopper into the cement to slow down and sure enough, it’s my old friend the barefoot skateboarding saxophone player who I’d just been thinking of today!