ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Tuesday, January 14, 1997 TAG: 9701140039
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A4 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CAROLINE FALLIN
FINALLY, the last day of the year! I left my home with a glad heart, knowing the holidays were nearly over, the Christmas presents I had given had not been greeted with derisive sneers, and I would soon have a fresh new year to recreate myself. Visions of a soon-to-be trim figure and a balanced checkbook swam through my head.
I may have been addled by these far-fetched fantasies or perhaps my depth perception had been damaged by the terrifying amount of Christmas candy I had consumed. As I innocently traveled down Franklin Road, I heard it: a strange, scraping, crunching, grinding noise.
My visions of beautiful new me were replaced by visions of a dejected old me exchanging insurance information and licenses with an unknown, irritated stranger whose morning I had just ruined, and a frumpy old me calling my sainted mother to explain that I had just wrecked her car. I suddenly wished I had gotten her that beautiful diamond tennis bracelet instead of the Hulk Hogan milkshake mixer.
I exited my car and looked to see who and what I had hit. The truck was parked and unoccupied. It was not the nearly invisible projectile I had assumed had materialized out of nowhere and zoomed into my designated space on purpose. It was a tractor-trailer - a vehicle twice the size of my apartment. All thoughts of blaming the other guy vanished. I had bent his bumper into a perpendicular curlicue. I could leave a note and maybe he wouldn't call!
Alas, it wasn't to be. A very nice man named Sam appeared, with a quizzical look on his face. I informed him that I had just hit his truck. He didn't yell at me or tell me what an idiot I was. I really appreciated that he didn't state the obvious. Instead, we joked about fixing the bumper by my slamming my car into reverse and hitting it again.
Then a policeman on a bicycle appeared. Oh, goody, that meant traffic court. Oh, darn, darn, darn! The officer was ready for a rotten morning, too, and seemed to be pleased that the truck driver and I weren't at each other's throats. I whined that I couldn't believe I had ended the year having to pay a deductible that I would have to pay again if I hit something tomorrow. The officer pointed out it was better to end the year with something like this than start it. That made me feel quite a bit better.
I've been back in the Roanoke Valley for only three months. For the past 15 years, I've lived in New York City, Denver, Los Angeles and San Francisco. I recently moved back here with some trepidation, not sure how I would cope without the big-city du jour.
Well, Roanoke, thank you for your beautiful views, your manageable pace and people who are only strangers until you say ``hi'' (or run into them with our car).
Wish me luck, new neighbors! I only hope your insurance adjusters and traffic-court judges are as kind as the rest of you.
Caroline Fallin of Vinton is a premed student currently working at a health-food store.
LENGTH: Medium: 58 linesby CNB