Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess |
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Around Spring Break-time this year, I was driving my truck on a well-traveled road around 5am. At the bottom of a hill, and before starting up the other side, there is a road leading off to the right that traverses a small creek, and railroad tracks that I think I've heard ten trains travel in the last ten years. Occasionally, there are cars parked near the bridge where the road crosses - there is a small dam above the bridge, creating a Hardies Lake where ducks and geese seem to collect. It's not unsual to see people taking pictures, or feeding the ducks - at night, though, it's usually teenagers visiting, or doing whatever it is that teens do at 5am along a creek bed. I remember seeing two or three vehicles there this particular night, but didn't pay much attention, because as I said, it was not uncommon. Suddenly, there was a very loud **BANG** - I could not decide if I'd been hit with something, or if something had happened to my front axle, or some other mechanical problem. For those of you old enough to remember locking hubs that you had to get out of the truck to turn in or turn out for four wheel drive, it sounded like a hub jumping in or out of four wheel drive while you were moving. I cautiously proceeded, but didn't feel any mechanical problems. I drove to the BP, which was about a mile from where I was "hit", I figured I could see better under the lights. Just below window-level, on my passenger door, (actually, where the door meets the body of the truck), were a cluster of divets. My heart raced, and I felt cold water running through my arteries as I realized I had, indeed, been smacked with something. I figured, from the look of the mark, that someone had hit me with a pretty big rock they found along the railroad tracks. You know the kind of rock generally found in the railroad bed - it's pourous and full of holes, I think it is slag from coke ovens or something like that? Most railroads use the same type of rocks. I called Bob, who was stuffing his Sunday papers and would not be along to look at it for some time, so I debated on what to do. I went into the BP, and asked the fellow behind the counter to look at it and give his opinion. He agreed that I'd been hit by something, and someone had a pretty good arm. I finally called 911 ... I really hate doing that when it's not an emergency. Dispatch said that they were on a call, but if I left my phone number, someone would call me back. It was about 15 or 20 minutes, and someone returned my call. We agreed to meet at Wagner's Marked, a small general store in the area -somewhere that also has street lights in the parking lot. Guess who showed up? Officer Thornburg. (If you did not read yesterday's installment, then Officer Thornburg has no significance to you.) This is what he said: Well, Teresa... looks like someone has a pretty good arm. Why didn't you call sooner? We might have been able to find someone there. (I said that I wasn't positive I'd been hit - thought it might be a mechanical problem, besides, I'm certain when someone realizes they've made contact with the vehicle, they're LONG gone.) Look at where this hit. If you'd have been in your car, it would have shattered the Window, and according to how deep it is, the glass probably would have cut you, the rock MIGHT have even hit you in the head, considering those people had to be a good 30 - 40 feet away from you as you drove past. I think you were very lucky this morning. Do you want to file a report?I said, "No", I mean, what's the use? He said that the next time I even THINK I've been hit with something, I should call. It is way too dangerous for people to be throwing things at passing cars, and he was going to see if there was any chance that, 90 minutes later, anyone was still at Hardies Lake. He called me later and said there wasn't anyone around, but then again, we expected that. Bob went down at daybreak and looked around on the road, according to where I said I was when I was hit, and he found a fist-sized rock, partially pourous, and partially solid. We still have it, and it matches the marking on the side of my truck pretty doggone close. Moral of the story is, don't ever be afraid to call 911. The police will tell you that they should be the judge of whether they can come take a look at the situation or not. If they have something more important going on, they'll get to you - otherwise, they're probably out driving around, looking for someone trying to get into trouble. They claim they count on us paper people out there at night as being extra sets of eyes, and reporting what we see that looks suspicious. So, don't ever think you can get away with anything in front of a paperboy - we are all unspoken Deputies. |