Tomorrow Has No Guarantee
Some mornings, if not most, we awake and immediately start to follow habit. We wake-up way too early, and prepare ourselves to head off and encounter whatever the day may behold. Then again, that’s just some mornings.
I’d head off to school on a route that consumed maybe ten miles in its entirety. Driving in a mental state not far from full-on dreaming. (Ten miles isn’t very far when one exists among reverie.)
This morning was different, however. Little did I know upon boarding my Honda Passport that my typical route, would be not so typical.
Making my first right onto Airport Road, I heard a Led Zeppelin song, as clearly as I did hear my grandmother hollering for me to wake-up earlier that morning. I went on my path, with my loud radio.
[To accompany the muse.] I pulled out a pack of Marlboro’s and lit one of them. (An early morning wrestling match with the lighter, aided in producing the final outcome.)
The smoke, elevated towards my nose. Leaving me with a scent (none-the-different) of the bon-fire that still was apparent from the night before. This added to my disoriented state, causing me to be even less attentive to my surroundings.
“Damnit!” I shouted as I dropped the cigarette to the floorboard.
Without reconsidering a thing, I reached down to pick up the burning stick of cancer. I’m unsure if “damnit” has ever been so close to becoming someone’s “famous” last words.
The Honda Passport then left the road, immediately hitting a ditch, causing a vicious sideward spiral. (Michael Buffer himself would produce envy over such an event full of excitement). The last supplied thought as “Stairway to Heaven” rings, was admiration as physics took its toll. Ripping the entire front-end off of the vehicle. The world seemed spiraling at equal proportions.
At some point I’m knocked unconscious for a matter of two minutes or so; it was long enough for the song to end and my “nicotine stick” to burn out in the carpeted floorboard....
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