Flashback, January 2005 8:00AM
So I am driving into downtown Anchorage off the Glenn Highway taking the then 14 year old Dylan to school. I am eight months pregnant and Jack is sleeping soundly in his little car seat in the back of the Fuelinator.
I have to get over. My turn signal is on. Can they not see me? Three lanes of commuters and not one of them is nice.I need to get over in the other lane. I gently, ever so gently step on the throttle. I call it the throttle because it is a diesel and to say step on the gas is wrong, oh so wrong in my house. Never ever confuse diesel with gas.
Ice fog, no one said anything about ice fog. Okay, so I haven't driven in two weeks and John just left for the slope. The Rockford Files driving moment is about to begin.
One 360, all three lanes of traffic has now stopped behind me. 360 number two, this in not good. Wow, this 7500 pound car can really twirl.
A red truck made the mistake of being parked on the street. If it hadn't been there my 180 parallel on the curb facing the three lanes of stopped, freaked out commuters would have been grand, just grand.
But no, the red truck met face to face with the Fuelinator. Nobody won.
It gets better. Dylan are you okay, "yeah, I am fine". Get out check the baby, hes still sleeping peacefully. Get back in. Lock the doors, even at 8AM, this isn't the best place to be. Now slammed up against the curb, attached to a red truck and facing East when I should be West.
Call 911, no way I am going to find the owner of this truck. Tap, Tap on the window. Roll it down a few inches. Yes I say. Maam can I help you? 911 Dispatcher on the phone, is the man an APD officer "? Are you APD" I ask. He shows me his little tiny badge. Your not APD I say. Hes not APD I tell the dispatcher. No maam he says, FBI.
Well, shoot, an FBI officer isn't going to do me any good right now. But he was very nice and walked into the Polar Bar with me. By golly, that place was open and the bartender owned the mashed red truck.
Giant pregnant chick and an FBI officer walk into a bar at 8am on a Monday morning......
Life is Stranger than Fiction
So I am driving into downtown Anchorage off the Glenn Highway taking the then 14 year old Dylan to school. I am eight months pregnant and Jack is sleeping soundly in his little car seat in the back of the Fuelinator.
I have to get over. My turn signal is on. Can they not see me? Three lanes of commuters and not one of them is nice.I need to get over in the other lane. I gently, ever so gently step on the throttle. I call it the throttle because it is a diesel and to say step on the gas is wrong, oh so wrong in my house. Never ever confuse diesel with gas.
Ice fog, no one said anything about ice fog. Okay, so I haven't driven in two weeks and John just left for the slope. The Rockford Files driving moment is about to begin.
One 360, all three lanes of traffic has now stopped behind me. 360 number two, this in not good. Wow, this 7500 pound car can really twirl.
A red truck made the mistake of being parked on the street. If it hadn't been there my 180 parallel on the curb facing the three lanes of stopped, freaked out commuters would have been grand, just grand.
But no, the red truck met face to face with the Fuelinator. Nobody won.
It gets better. Dylan are you okay, "yeah, I am fine". Get out check the baby, hes still sleeping peacefully. Get back in. Lock the doors, even at 8AM, this isn't the best place to be. Now slammed up against the curb, attached to a red truck and facing East when I should be West.
Call 911, no way I am going to find the owner of this truck. Tap, Tap on the window. Roll it down a few inches. Yes I say. Maam can I help you? 911 Dispatcher on the phone, is the man an APD officer "? Are you APD" I ask. He shows me his little tiny badge. Your not APD I say. Hes not APD I tell the dispatcher. No maam he says, FBI.
Well, shoot, an FBI officer isn't going to do me any good right now. But he was very nice and walked into the Polar Bar with me. By golly, that place was open and the bartender owned the mashed red truck.
Giant pregnant chick and an FBI officer walk into a bar at 8am on a Monday morning......
Life is Stranger than Fiction
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