Tag: cars

Objects in Mirror

Bailey Gunn2 Comments

Today, I was putting on a concert in my car. I was jamming out to My Chemical Romance’s “Helena” and pumping my fists. My mouth was open wide to hit all the high notes, and I was trying desperately to sing along to the lyrics.

Well, I guess I was putting on quite the show because the old, white man in front of me gave me the finger.

I guess he thought I was yelling at him? Or maybe he didn’t like my music. Or one thousand other reasons he maybe mistook the situation.

So, even though it still makes me irrationally angry because in my mind, I did nothing wrong, it pays to remember that things aren’t always what they seem, just like the objects in a car mirror are closer than they seem.

Maybe I was doing something wrong. Or maybe he was cranky.

All I know is that reality is messy. Don’t jump the gun to the wrong conclusions.

Love,

Bailey

Risky

Bailey GunnLeave a comment

Every time you get inside a car, you risk your life.

Now you do everything you can to avoid an accident. You spend time driving with a learners permit. You learn from an experienced driver. You take a test. You don't eat, drink, or put your contact lenses in while driving (I say it because I've seen it.)

But there's still a risk. A risk that someone out there isn't being as safe as you are. Actually, there's a very good chance they're not being as safe.

What can you do? You can drive. Because the amount of desire you have to get to another place is bigger than how costly the risk is.

And this is when fear does not have power. It's when you want/need something so bad that you're brain overrides (pun intended) the fear. In spite of the risk, you're going to do it.

Try to approach your life like driving: it's risky, but worth it.

Car Horns

Bailey Gunn2 Comments

When do you use your car horn most? When you’re trying to get someone’s attention? When you’re trying to signal to a squirrel to tell him that he should get out of the road? When you’re trying to tell someone that they’re driving wonderfully? 

No. You use it when someone is being an $#!hole. When someone cuts you off, blows through a stop sign, or if you’re a New Yorker, just because you feel like it. 

And if you’re anything like me, I’m so embarrassed when someone uses their horn on me that I mouth “sorry” as many times as I can and gesture to the driver that I didn’t mean it. It’s the one thing that always makes me feel like an idiot. 

But I’m not always being the idiot. Because people use their car horns all the time. And not always for the right reason. 

And that’s a lot like life, isn’t it? Someone can tell you that you’re doing something wrong, and you very well might be. But there are going to be times that you’re not, and that person is going to continue to make you feel like an idiot. And it can be really hard to ignore that.  Sometimes, you really value that person’s opinion.

But just because that person has an opinion, just like car horns, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re using it at the right time or that they even have the right to exert their influence over you. 

You should always remember that others are going to try to get you to stay in line. They’re going to make fun of you, and they’re going to exclude you, and yeah, they’re going to honk at you. But that doesn’t make them the authority in your life.

The way I see it, if you’re not hurting anyone, just keep on doing what you’re doing. Honk if you agree. 

Love Makes You See Things Differently

Bailey GunnLeave a comment

Love is weird.

As you may know, I have been dating my boyfriend for 10 years.

I’ll wait for that to sink in. (Everyone needs time with that one.) And I have to say, we’re quite different. And not even in a girl/boy sort of way. More like a tomato/tomatoe sort of way. He likes all things concrete and science. I love all things abstract and literature. So, we tend to see the world very differently.

For example? Cars.

My boyfriend loves cars. (I don’t know what the deal is with men and machines. Kindred spirit? Fueled by gas? Anyway…) He likes the way they sound, he likes the way they’re made, and he knows the difference between the two.

Me? I like…the way they look. Some of them. And how some cars have faces. And how some look really angry or really dumb. And that’s about as far as my engine will go. (I know, I know. The “I’m a girl, don’t ask me to change a tire” flag is flying high tonight).

Well. That was before we started dating.

Now? After a decade? I can tell cars apart. The worst part? I have a preference. Before we were dating, I just wanted one that went forward when I asked it to. Now that we’re dating, I’d prefer a Lamborghini Aventador. Poor guy. He doesn’t know he’s dating a Libra with incredibly expensive taste. (As if there were any other kind!)

So now when I drive down the highway, my head turns a little too long when I see a nice Volvo. I find myself drooling a bit when I see a Dodge Challenger in black. And of course, when I see someone driving like an idiot up ahead, I am always right when I guess it’s an Acura, a Lexus, or a BMW.

I never paid much attention to what I was driving, let alone the cars that were driving next to me before. But now I’m excited to identify the car (and to get it right). Just because I love a guy who loves cars.

Now, if only I can get him to acknowledge Hemingway over a Hemi, Poe over a Porsche, and Nabokov over a Nascar race, I’d say my work here is done.

But I’ll take mileage over matter any day.

The Bridge to Happiness

Bailey Gunn2 Comments

For the thousandth, millionth time I am going to talk about my commute to work. I apologize for the redundancy, but it does make up a small portion of my every day. So, if I am forced to do it, I think, selfishly, that you should be forced to relive a part of it, too.

And what makes up a small part of my daily commute? Crossing a rather small bridge. It’s great because it is the perfect landmark: once I cross it, I’m either halfway home or halfway to work. It allows me to let out a little sigh of relief.

However, I do have a seatbelt cutter and a window breaker in case I get a little overzealous when going over. (Let’s just hope that I’m coming home if that happens. How would I ever explain that to work without sounding like the dog ate my homework?)

But I can assure you that the water on either side is not what I am considering (not if I want to keep my lunch in my stomach.) Rather, when I can sneak a glance, I look at the people driving past me in their own cars, on their own commutes across. Mostly, I want to catch them lip synching to a song on a radio, like me. But they rarely are. They occasionally talk on the phone. Adjust their air fresheners. Put on sunglasses. Mostly, they just drive, staring straight ahead.

What I don’t see? Smiles. I have yet to see anyone smiling. And hey, I get it. You are either driving to work or you have a long road ahead. Neither is anything to smile about most of the time.

But from my seat, I still see plenty of other reasons to smile. For one, I see lots of expensive cars crossing that bridge. Now, you don’t have to give me a Lambo to have me grinning from ear to ear, but I certainly wouldn’t be crying. And yet, these people in cars that must have cost them thousands of dollars…are sitting with actual frowns on their faces.

And okay, expensive cars do not always equate to a perfect life. But as these people cross the bridge in front of me, I wonder, if a Mustang doesn’t make you smile contentedly every time you rev the engine, then what will do it?

The point is that no matter where you are in your journey of “happiness” or your journey on your way home, there is always a way to appreciate what you have right now. (Even if you just have to be grateful that you aren’t in the river below.) I hope that my fellow commuters remember that when we are all crossing the same bridge, in the same town, on the same Earth.

Excuse Me, But I Think Your Car is Smoking…

Bailey GunnLeave a comment

I know what you are thinking. This can’t be just a catchy title…there has to be a story behind it.

Well, you are in luck. Although, the person whose car was smoking was not in as much luck as you and me are, snuggled cozily in front of our computer screens reading humorous ramblings and chuckling along.

No, this girl went through almost four complete traffic lights before deciding that it was best to pull over, even though the smoke from the hood of her car billowed behind her like a miniature steam engine. And I get it. It was rainy. It was foggy. It was not a relatively safe area. I’m sure she must have thought Is that me? or I’m sure I can make it through one more light before my car erupts into a ball of flame. And maybe she was right. Maybe she could have made it a couple more miles. And maybe I could have mustered up the courage to drive alongside of her instead of 100 feet back, as I decided whether to flash my high beams at her to say, “Excuse me, miss, I don’t mean to be rude, but your car is smoking.” It’s also very possible that she was completely in control of the situation and knew that her car was moments from breathing flames.

But she probably didn’t know all that. And she probably would have kept going. And you know what? So would you. Because we humans don’t like facing reality. We’d much rather keep going, our lives completely on fire and burning. We just like to wave a fan over things, saying “It’s a little hot in here, isn’t it?” We like to pretend. We like to “keep calm, and carry on.”

Hey, it’s worked for millions of years. Why stop now? (“Why stop now?” Your car is smoking. Is that a good enough reason, or are you too busy texting?)

Look, I know life is busy. I know that girl probably had a “Check Engine” light on for quite some time that she ignored. And at the risk of sounding like your disapproving father who tells you to be safe and to always prepare for the worst, well. Be safe out there. And prepare for the worst. Because there are going to be times when things work out. But for all of the times in between, which we call life, you are going to be glad that you prepared ahead of time. Just learn to expect it and accept it.

And sometimes we don’t want to admit that we are facing a difficult situation in reality. That we haven’t hit rock bottom, that we haven’t found that disgusting green chip at the end of the bag. Sometimes we don’t want to admit our car is sort of, kind of on fire. But there are times that we must, and the faster it happens, the faster you can get home safe, Miss Tokyo Drift. Just please. Pull over and ask for help when you need it, on the road and in life.

Please, Laugh at my Funeral

Bailey GunnLeave a comment

Author’s Note:

I think about this blog post a lot. Probably because I commute a lot. And maybe because I think about death a lot. But the more I think about it, the more it rings true. 

As you may know from reading my blog before, I have a bit of a commute. And if you haven’t read my blog before, then now you know I have a bit of a commute. We all spend a lot of time in our cars: listening to music, stepping on our brakes, and following slowpokes. While I’m driving, I like seeing new models of cars and how much duct tape can be used to fix a bumper. And with my commute, I have seen a lot.

But today, I saw something a bit different. I was driving behind a rather beat-up truck with a large load. When I got a little closer, (not close enough to tailgate him, I know better) I noticed that there were four vending machines in the bed of the truck. As I stared at the soft drink logo and those curlicues made of metal that sabotage you when you try to get a bag of crackers, I morbidly wondered what would happen if one of them fell off the back of the truck and onto my waiting car. I mean, there would be no wondering if it happened. I would most certainly be dead. But I started to laugh when I thought that the headline would have to be something like, “Snack Attack: Vending Machines Kill Girl on Highway.” And I realized that if I had to go out like that, it wouldn’t be a blaze of glory, but I would be alright with it.

Laughing all the way home, thinking that I would probably need Dorito dust and honey bun sugar to be wiped off my corpse, I realized that what I want more than anything (besides to make it home every night not being killed by a rogue vending machine) is for people to laugh at my funeral. If I die in a really ordinary way, then can you at least set up some board games at the wake? I don’t want everyone to be in such a somber, sober mood that they forget all the times I (tried to) make them laugh. Sure, life can be difficult. But mourning me isn’t going to help you appreciate life, help you smell the flowers and see the sunrises. Only you can do that. And what is death but a final reminder to celebrate the life you lost? Giving you the pause in your life that you may not have given yourself when the person was alive to remember them and their legacy. Death keeps us honest but also whole.

I’m not saying it’s easy (or correct) to laugh at a funeral. But please try to at mine. Assuredly, I’m somewhere, (up? down? around?) laughing with you.

Oh, but don’t ask me for help in trying to get your snack out of the machine when it’s stuck. I’m not even sure God has the power to do that.