rogue tumbleweed pylon
I got out of class 15 minutes early yesterday and my first thought was “extra time, extra time, go, go, go”. I have a tendency to over-committ and I don’t like to let those people to whom I have committed down. On Friday last week I had emails from the 4 organizations I volunteer with stating impending meetings and work to be done. The person I freelance for sent another chapter, and I had an assignment for stats class (which I still have to go to twice a week until August 8th) looming and yoga classes that are supposed to reduce stress, right? I suppose they do, as long as you can find the time to fit them in. Oh, and I’m moving — right and there’s this matter of a full-time job, and continuous dyingness (though better, not fully resolved) that tends to mean I’m crazy to take on this much. But I always have, and everything always gets done. And I enjoy being the busy person. It makes me feel important. I just have to move closer to the events taking place or not sign up for any more.
In my haste, I was booting it up the Gardiner to the 427 when I caught glimpse of a rogue tumbleweed pylon rolling into my lane at record speed (for a pylon). Not a big one — bright and orange and maybe a promotional 10 inch plastic contraption.
I glimpse in my mirrors.
Must go over pylon.
I look behind me again and don’t see the plyon anywhere, but I continue to drive.
I casually wonder “where is the pylon”?
Going over bumps in the road my car sounds extra squishy from below. I turn off the audio book and try to determine if the squishiness is indeed plastic.
I can’t stop anywhere on the highway and so continue.
Then I smell burning rubber.
The pylon is, most definitely, under the car.
I pull off at Dundas and park in the Zellers lot. I get under the car and realize I can’t reach the said pylon that is now twisted around my front axle and has been dragging at 100 km an hour for at least 10 minutes. I have to move the car further into the lot to access the other side. The umbrella reaching isn’t doing much.
I get down on the ground. Flat. And reach. And pull.
And nothing happens.
My logic is spinning. What the hell does one do when a pylon is stuck under one’s car? I don’t know. And so I stand up, paced with momentary panic, and then get back down on the ground, determined that this thing will shake loose.
It doesn’t for some time, and then, with one last pull of strength, it comes loose. The now split, half charred and melted pylon appears to have done no lasting damage and I abandon it in the parking lot.