Heads Up

Heads Up

S-C-R-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-C-H! That is the sound you hear, explains the commercial's announcer, just before a driver's vehicle hits a pedestrian. For the pedestrian, it may be the last sound they ever hear. For the driver, it may be a sound they hear for the rest of their life. The "Heads Up" ad campaign that has burst out on billboards and radio stations all around Salt Lake has disturbed me from the get-go. Each time I observe or listen to one, I hear myself think, "Why don't people pay more attention?" Apparently, someone agrees with me because the push for "Heads Up" has become disturbingly recurrent. I was listening closely to the commercial and pondering how I would experience that situation. I was at an intersection where I wanted to turn left onto Main Street from a small neighborhood street. There was no stop light, so I had to rely on my own driving skills and that of the other drivers on the road. I looked to the left. Those two lanes were clear. I looked to the right, noting along the way that the crosswalk was empty. The lane nearest me was empty. The far lane was fairly busy, but I could turn into the middle, turn lane out on Main Street without interrupting anyone's process, as long as the traffic to the left was clear. I looked to the left and it was clear for as far as I could see. I glanced quickly to the right, to make sure no one was merging into the turn lane to turn in front of me. All was still clear so I began to slowly edge forward. The side street meets Main Street with a seemingly deadly dip which generally threatens to take off my front bumper and rip off my muffler so I had to proceed very, very slowly. Making it through the rollercoaster entrance, I got onto Main Street and cranked my steering wheel to turn into the turn lane. Without time enough to even breathe, I promptly skidded to a halt, my heart rushing to my throat, my stomach dropping to my feet. There hadn't been enough speed to cause a S-C-R-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-C-H! but I heard one in my head. "YOU STUPID BLEEPITY-BLEEP-BLEEP!" The older, unkempt man shouted at me and slammed his fist into my hood as he sailed by on his ten-speed. He continued ranting at me as he flew past, "WATCH WHERE YOU ARE BLEEP-BLEEP GOING!" I was sufficiently rattled. I imagined he was scared out of his mind. I had no idea where the man had come from. He had not been in the crosswalk any of the times I had checked traffic. Suddenly my heart tripped back to life and I inhaled shakily. My knuckles were white as my fist clenched the steering wheel, fingernails digging into the vinyl. I had almost hit a bike-riding pedestrian. The thought made my head swim. I began checking in with myself, taking inventory of all that was going on in my body and analyzing it to avoid the truth of the situation. I could have killed him! The sudden, enormous surge of adrenaline (fear) sparked a gallon-sized dump of bile into my belly (fear AND anger) and caused my vision to swim (sadness). I felt like I was going to vomit (fear). Why the hell wasn't he walking his bike across the street like he is supposed to? My jaw was welded shut (anger). My shoulders and arms had gone rigid (anger). My eyes were burning with a surge of unshed tears (sadness and anger). I could have been charged with vehicular manslaughter! I kept going with the stories and analysis until I caught myself and laughed nervously, trying to bring myself back to the situation at hand. I had almost hit a bike-riding pedestrian. I was sad and scared and angry all at the same time. I realized in that moment that, even when I think I am doing everything right, I stand a very good chance that I am going to get a wake up call to show me otherwise. Especially when I am not present to the moment, absent from my body. Looking back at the situation, I realized I had left myself somewhere and wasn't even in the car when I was driving. I realized I had gotten behind the wheel, seething mad and had chosen to turn up the radio really loud to black out my feelings. I realized I had then backed out of my parking space, without really looking, and had turned up the radio even louder. I had only rolled to a pause at the stop sign before turning onto the street and heading toward Main. I had paid way too much attention to the colorful signs on the neighborhood corner store. And then I had sat in a daze for a moment at the Main Street intersection listening to that commercial and judging anyone who was dumb enough to hit a pedestrian. And then... I had almost hit a bike-riding pedestrian. There is a reason why this moment - right here and now - is called the "present." It is the present, a Gift to myself. It is all that I have. It would be so sad to blow that gift by being unaware of where I am or what I am doing. I feel grateful that I only almost hit that man, although I am imagining it ruined his afternoon. It gives me the opportunity to recommit to being present for myself. I commit to being present for myself. ©Angie K. Millgate 6/7/08td>