Older? Definitely. Wiser? Probably, we do after all, learn from our mistakes. But does that actually mean that we ever reach a point in our lives where we have exhausted every mistake possibility that exists for ourselves? By the time we're 85 or 90, will we be such wise owls that every action is prefaced with caution, that we've been there done that so much, that we're mistake-proof?
Two things happened within the last three days which demonstrate my point.
Since I was about 6 years old, I've crossed many a road by myself, without the assistance of a parent, thanks very much. Likewise, Man from Mars (aka Boyfriend) has reversed many a time out from his driveway to embark on countless nights on the town.
So how is it that one day you just happen to do what you've done so many times before, so very very wrong?
Incident #1: Crossing the Road
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So on this particular day, I decided to leisurely make my way into town to meet up with Man from Mars. He's volunteering at the moment- another GFC victim, but at least he's busy, scuttling around at his community legal centre and doing a grand job at that.
I felt like walking to the station. Now, anyone who knows me, realises that this is a big deal. Only because I walk very very slowly. I blame it on my "hippo legs" (as Man from Mars likes to call them). They're short, inefficient and get in the way of each other. So, I meander, stare at the sky, trip over sticks, roots, leaves, ants, and generally have a difficult time.
My expectations for this trip were no different but I was a little more upbeat having taken on this new "live in the moment" outlook and all. I plugged in my ipod, Lily Allen started pumping and, like a first class filly, I was off! The first stretch of the walk was a success. I was light-footed and nimble; you could even say, coordinated. I strode confidently past the dogs at 121 who bark too loudly and salivate with their fangs bared through the holes in the fence. I walked past the house that of late has consistently stunk of horse manure (new garden reno perhaps?) and made sure to avoid any ominous looking mounds that might justify the strength of the pong. I got to the roundabout, amped myself to locate a gap in the stream of cars and readied myself to run.
Now, I know as well as the next person that roundabouts are childsplay; you just gotta look to your right and you're good to go. Or, in the case of crossing them on foot, you just have to wait for one to go in the direction you're heading, and run with it. On this particular day, with Lily faithfully ringing in my ears, I found the gap to make it halfway in no time- no man is an island on the good old median strip! Only two more bounds and I'd be safe. But as I balanced in the middle of the road, the minutes ticking by, and each opportunity to cross being missed as I hesitated and retreated again and again, I began to feel increasingly uncomfortable; that feeling you get when you know you're taking far too long to do something which is meant to be pretty easy. I began to resign myself to the fact that I'd just have to wait until somewhere on some street, the lights turned red and this car jam would be forced to stop.
Then I spot an opening, one car going straight across; my gateway to freedom- I wasn't going to hesitate this time.
Lo and behold, I should've known better. My reflexes are no match for turbo engined Beamers that whiz past faster than I can say "What the frick!" and within a millisecond I found myself facing off with a SUV that was coming from the opposite direction. Had it not been for my hippo legs being fuelled by adrenaline and my magnificent lunge towards the footpath, I think I might've been hit: "STUPID GIRL!!!" yelled the driver.
I turned around, pretended not to hear, eyes to the ground, Lily long abandoned and practically sprinted the rest of the way to the station.
Incident #2: Backing out of the driveway
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Man from Mars prides himself on the fact that he can drive any car, whether it be his little red Barina ("My dad uses it now"), his big Ford or a mammoth Campervan in the middle of New Zealand. He expertly performs reverse parks, illegal u-turns, hook turns and can read a map with his eyes crossed. In the time I have known him, he's only ever had 2 accidents. Both apparently weren't really his fault and I believe that, because despite the odd illegal manoeuvre, he is a pretty safe driver.
Now, reversing out of a driveway is like the warm up before a workout. You just gotta do it, otherwise you won't go anywhere- sure it's boring, it can be tricky, but it's an undeniable fact of life: driveway before journey.
On this particular day, Man from Mars claims he left his brain on the plane (he'd just returned from an interstate trip to see me, you see). He unlocked the car, after having walked around two other cars parked in his driveway, and snuggled on down into his car seat. Ignition ignited. Brake in reverse. Handbrake down. Accelerate.
What the frick, forgot there were two other cars in the driveway!!! *Smash!* *POW!* *Meep Meep!*
And it was all over red rover in a matter of seconds.
Man from Mars felt very foolish indeed.
"I was thinking about something else and I just crashed into them!" he lamented.
I listened, "Mm-hmm, Mm-hmmed" and gave him my condolences for the cars.
Poor cars. Poor SUV driver.
Ah well. Better luck next time.
Such are the vicissitudes of life, right?
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