Speed *can* Kill

I had to be in Point Richmond by 10am this morning and of course, when the appointment is just up the road, it seems like I have more time than I do, but I don't, but I still cut it too close and end up trying to bend time and space so I'm not late.

And of course, on such days, all sorts of things go wrong. I was on my way and feeling confident that I'd make it on time - I gave myself about 25 minutes to get there, during rush hour traffic.

Three minutes into my trip, as I turned the corner to head over the Fruitvale Bridge - DENIED. The bridge was up. Mother sister! That's a 7-minute delay right there. Great.

Once past the bridge, stupid 880 was stupid as always - slow traffic through downtown, for no reason. No accident, no stalls, no reason - just a whole lotta cars driving too slowly.

As I merged onto 80 I thought there might still be a chance to make it - traffic was much lighter and moving fast. Definitely totally possible within the 5-minute grace period.

10:05 is still on time - no one likes someone who shows up RIGHT on time - that's annoying. Everyone should have a few minutes to maybe fit in one last pit stop or inhale a doughnut or slam another cup of coffee. Five minutes is a thoughtful gift.

Blazing down 580 - let's pause to thank one of our sponsors, Beltronics Radar Detectors. Thank you. Blazing through Richmond on my way to my exit, time began to slow down and I believed I would actually make it - amazing, given the stupid drawbridge, stupid traffic and the inability to use the commuter lane. OK, so I used it for five seconds, but I had to. It was 9:53 - no one's checking at 9:53.

As I approached the exit, I slowed way down to the proper exit ramp speed limit - I'd never been in this part of town before - I had no idea where the exit ramp might be going.

Following the curve of the ramp, ahead of me I saw what looked like a bag of concrete mix or sand or something spilled onto the roadway - no biggie - I kept going and then BLAM - the car started skidding and I thought for sure I'd blown a tire.

With a fresh crap in my pants, I guided the car gently to the stoplight and felt the adrenaline take over. I was panting like a winded dog, telling myself Just get through the light, then make that one turn, we're going to check everything out but we're not going to do it here on the offramp...

And I kept driving... the car seemed fine. I got all the way up & over the hill to where I was going and got out to inspect the car. All tires OK. Car looks OK. Huh. OK. It was 10:06. That still totally counts as on time when you almost just killed yourself driving over a bag of dust on the freeway.

So, thank you also to Volvo, for making a car that even with over 110K miles on it, has no trouble sliding through a patch of sand and coming out fine.