Time Has Come...

Time.  Or timing.  We all think about time although it is possibly something our brain concocted so it could either remember something or look forward to something.  Plausible, I suppose.  More important is timing; when things happen, or don't.  I took a trip to Seattle again today to swap my bad digital kiln controller for new, better digital control.  It was pretty cool.  They took me in the back and showed me where they make the kilns.  I walked through the door that said "Employees Only."  I've been going there for 21 years and I have always wanted to do that.  Once I tried but didn't get very far before someone noticed me.  "Hey!  What are you doing?  You're not supposed to be back here!"  I used my standard get out of jail free phrase, "I'm looking for the restroom."

Downtown Seattle from Seattle Pottery Supply parking lot

I was supposed to go over a week ago Thursday but couldn't make it due to work restrictions.  Today, I had made the necessary arrangements with work and took off about noon.  As usual, I took a wrong turn and it ended up taking longer to arrive at my destination than it should have.  I was there about 3:10PM.

I walked in with my dysfunctional digital controller in a box, walked to the counter where an employee was working with a customer.  She was grim-faced, as usual, so I said, "Hi, Smiley."  She let a grin slip, asked me what I wanted.  I held up the box.  She called back to the warehouse, announcing me by name.  Wow!  She knows my name!  I felt pretty good about that.

The kiln person came to the front and escorted me to the back where the magic happens.  He spent a long time explaining the wiring on the controller, how it might be different than the wiring on the old controller and expected me to remember it all.  "Do you have graphics?" I asked.  He looked at me and I thought I saw him shake his head.

As I was leaving, Kim, the lovely young person who works there, came out and we started to chat.  The kiln person brought the new controller out to me.  They both told me how much they enjoyed my sense of humor.  I told them I was the mystery shopper for all the pottery stores in Washington State and being funny was a trick I used so I could tell their boss they were goofing around on company time.  They laughed at that.  So did I.  I crack myself up.

I-90 East with the Veteran's Hospital on Beacon Hill

Usually, I try to find something to do while I'm in Seattle.  I try to make it to the International District for real Vietnamese food, or downtown to the Dragonfish for their Holy Garlic Chicken.  Today, though, since the weather was good, and I was by myself, I felt I should get back and maybe have time to install the new equipment.  So, I hit I-90 East.  It was smooth sailing.  I stopped at the top of Snoqualmie Pass to use the facilities and headed back onto the freeway and toward Ellensburg, home of Central Washington University.  I was sleepy but at 5:30PM was thinking it's too late for caffeine.  I stopped and got gas and gauged my exhaustion factor.  I'd better get some caffeine.  Stopped at Starbucks, pulled out the iPad, ordered a White Chocolate Latte, and sat down to read email and drink coffee.  I received a phone call, talked for a bit, and continued to read email.  I get lots of email.  A lot of it is junk to me and I don't know why I just don't give up and unsubscribe from those pesky emails from Home Depot.  I was hoping to meet a friend but they had dinner plans.  I finished my coffee and hit the road.  When I went into Starbucks, it was still sunny outside.  When I left, night had fallen.

I don't mind driving at night although my night vision is near blindness.  It is an hour from Ellensburg to Wenatchee.  There are two routes you can take.  One is US 97 that goes up and over Blewett Pass.  The other is to stay on I-90 until George.  That's right, there is a town named George, Washington.  Believe it or not, there are a fair number of millionaires living there.  It is a faming community but the farms are REALLY big.  I remember playing at a party next to a swimming pool at a farmhouse back in the late 70's.  The guy had a landing strip out front so his buddies could fly in to visit.  It was his daughter's birthday and she wanted a live rock band.  We were it.

Since I live on the east side of the Columbia River, I always take the route to George.  Sometimes I'll stop and have cherry pie at Martha's Inn.  That's right again.  Martha's Inn in George, Washington.  They cook the world's biggest cherry pie every Fourth of July.  I had a piece once.  Tasted just like cherry pie.

Since it was dark and I was in no hurry, I decided to drive the speed limit.  Good thing.  From Ellensburg, I-90 goes about 10 miles downhill to the Vantage Bridge across the Columbia.  There is a hairpin corner which dictates about 50mph in driving speed.  Then there is a hill as you climb away from the river and back onto the Columbia Plateau.  I was playing passing tag with an old Toyota pickup who would slow down going uphill and speed up on the flat.  As we were coming up the hill from the river, he was behind me.

As we crested the hill, there were brake lights everywhere.  Traffic was stopped.  I was doing 70mph.  I swerved into the left lane and hit the brakes.  So did the guy in the Toyota but not fast enough.  He bumped me.  I pulled over, he pulled over.  Semis were passing inches away from us as we gave each other contact info.  We both stood looking down the freeway to see why traffic was stopped.  It was Armageddon.  It was the end of the earth.  It was cars on fire, an engine laying in the middle of the road and about ten cars either in the median or up the hill off the freeway.  People were laying in the road.  There were no police or ambulances.  It was unfuckingbelievable.  I have never seen anything like it.  People thought we were involved in the accident, which looked to be a chain reaction.  Too many cars bunched together on the freeway, going too fast.  It was death.  I smelled it.

The State Patrol arrived.  One of them came over to us and asked if we were part of the conflagration (my words, not his.)  No, I replied, he just bumped me and we are exchanging info. Good, said the cop, when you get done, just jam on out of here.  I looked down the freeway and saw trafic cones and flares and a roadblock.  They closed the freeway.  They don't do that unless there is a fatality.  Oh my God, I thought as I was driving down the middle of the freeway.  There were literally a dozen people laying or sitting on the side of the road.  One car had no front end.  I had just driven around it.  I could hear and feel glass and plastic and who knows what else crunching under my tires.  I just wanted to get away but kept looking at either side of the freeway.  There was luggage, blankets, clothes, car parts all over the place.  It was a minefield.  It was horrible.

I did not think about it driving home.  I couldn't.  I counted five ambulances heading toward the scene of the accident.  Family trips disrupted by possible death.  People going somewhere that would not arrive.  I could not think about it and drive.  I drove.

I made it home.  I started shaking.  Then I started crying.  I thought that if I had been a minute faster, I would have been involved.  I thought about all the people I saw on the side of the road.  All of the plastic crap parts of cars in the road.  I thought that if the guy behind me had hit me hard enough, it would have sent me into the back end of a horse trailer.  Me, in my little plastic car.  Tears rolled down my face.

Yes, I am glad it wasn't me.  But it was SOMEBODY.  I still can't shake it.  I'm sad and scared. Alone.  That's what got me started on thinking about time and timing.  I guess you could say it's all in the timing.

I don't want to drive anymore.