Pitch, awful blackness and violence and terrible energy stretching out for miles, bearing down with great and furious vengeance on my dumb ass perched on top of a hill two miles from anything that could have possibly helped. So I'm plodding along the trail on the north side of the lake, over the boat docks and past the morning fishermen, and I'm getting tired because I'm getting in shape but not quite in shape, and I say to myself "I will push to the top of the hill by the dam, and then I'll pull off and take a breather, get some water, maybe walk a stretch, I've got two more miles to go." And so I put it into gear and run up the hill on the east side of the dam and I reach the apex that looks westward out over the entire area and see The Nothing. The south side is mostly covered by canopy, and the north side is more or less at water level until you reach the crest of the dam. I run the lake counter-clockwise, south side to north side, for whatever reason one decides to run one way instead of another. The lake stretches more or less East/West, with a small dam at the western end. So I'm out on my run one Sunday morning and I'm feeling pretty good so I decide to head around the lake, because I'm an idiot. It was hilly but not too hilly, open but not too open, crowded but never too crowded. I found this nice little stretch of the Patuxent Branch Trail that ran from a business office parking lot and around a lake that basically broke down into 2-mile segments - 2 miles to the lake, 2 miles around the lake, 2 miles back. I would go out a couple times a week on short jaunts around the neighborhood, around 3 or 4 miles depending on my appetite for hills, and then a longer run on Saturday or Sunday morning. So I had taken up running to get in shape during the off-season and found that I rather liked it, because I am an idiot. When I finally got home at 3 in the morning, I flipped on the Weather Channel and promptly saw a video clip of that same trash can blowing around on the street. And the train trip back to Detroit took like 10 hours instead of the scheduled 6, because the storms had knocked out power to some of the track signals. I'm sure I didn't smell great either (I'd been sweating during the day - it was August). Even with a bit of time (my train was delayed), I was still damp when I boarded.
So, I made a run for it, across the Chicago River and into the station. I waited for a bit to see if it would lighten up (it didn't), by which time I was concerned that I wouldn't make my train. I'm in the checkout at Walgreens, and I look out the door and it's pouring, and windy I saw a public trash can blowing around.
I was hoping to beat them to the station. Now, I knew there was a line of strong storms coming. Stopped in at a Walgreens or some such store a few blocks away to get some snacks for the train. On the last day, I was headed to Union Station to catch my train back to Michigan. We're not married, but to this day she's still my best friend, one of the best friends you could ever ask for.īy the way, do you know what song was playing on the radio when it happened? From that point on we start getting closer and closer until she becomes my first girlfriend about a month & a half later. Once I get clearance from the crossing cop, I walk back down to my friend's house, in the rain, and ask to use her phone (it's the 90s and I don't think I had a cell phone yet). Uninsured, unregistered, probably unlicensed biatch (who later tried to refuse to take blame) must've floored it after passing the crossing guard and T-boned me. I think it's clear, start pulling out and BAM. Her house was on a dead-end street next to one of the elementary schools in town, and that day some asshat in a pickup-camper can only find a spot right on the corner, meaning I can't see shiat.
I drop the last girl off at her house and start to leave. So it's senior year, and I offer to take a couple of bandmates home because it's pouring.