By on February 1, 2014
1991 GMC Jimmy SLE

1991 GMC Jimmy SLE

Sometime in the middle of the night, while I was hard at work moving pallets, opening boxes and arranging Christmas merchandise on the sales floor of the giant wholesale buyers’ club, the clouds moved in and it began to rain. The earth was cold and as soon as the first drop hit the ground it turned to ice. More drops followed, untold millions upon millions of them, and, in the matter of minutes, everything they struck was encapsulated in a growing coat of ice. The rain continued through the night and by the time the sun rose the storm had moved off towards the Cascades, where the increasing elevation forced the clouds higher into the sky and turned the rain to snow. But in the valley the damage had been done and people awoke to a crystalline world in which everyday objects had been transformed into works of art and where every branch and wire were hung with rows of dagger-like icicles.

I paid little attention to nature’s wonderful trick as I emerged from the store and shielded my eyes from the light of the morning sun. I was a night dweller, one of the nameless rabble who worked through the dark hours in order to fill the shelves with merchandise that the good, normal people of the world would happily purchase amidst warmth and light while I struggled to sleep. I hated my job, I hated my life and I hated anyone who had the those things that I, too, had worked so hard to attain but had found denied in what should have been my hour of triumph.

College hadn’t been in the cards for me when I had left high school more than a decade earlier, but a chance encounter with Japanese cartoons in the darkened exhibition hall of a Sci-Fi convention had shown me that there were more things in the world than the Snohomish district had managed to impart in 12 long years of basic education. I was amazed by the images I saw and I promptly sat down and remained in the room until the convention ended two full days later. Those cartoons led me to a lifelong study of the Japanese language, the Merchant Marines and eventually back to college at the ripe old age of 28 years old. For five years I chipped away my education, just over two years of which I spent in Junior College while I worked full time in the warehouse of a local hospital, and then another two during which I got my first taste of grinding poverty as I tried to live on student loans as I finished up my Bachelor’s degree at a four year school on the far side of the state. When it was done I was 33 years old, a new college graduate with a degree that included the words “Cum Laude” above my name, and ready to step into that better, brighter future that I had worked so hard to attain.

But the world doesn’t want 33 year old entry level white-collar workers. And it doesn’t want 33 year old college educated truck drivers, either. I was unemployed and no matter how many I sent, my resumes generated little interest. Without even the meager subsistence afforded by student loans to sustain me, I was forced to returned to my mother’s home where I resumed the residence in my childhood bedroom and where I soon found a pistol in my hand. Every day I pulled the .45 Caliber Springfield automatic from its cushioned bag, removed the trigger lock and turned it over in my hands while I decided whether or not to use it on myself. Every day, after examining its lines and feeling its weight, I told myself I wasn’t a quitter and returned it to its place. Eventually, as the early Summer turned to Autumn and Autumn gave way to Winter I was able to score a job as a seasonal temp worker for a Seattle area warehouse chain.

To this day I have mixed feelings when I walk into a warehouse store. I walk along the rows of pallets and note their perfectly aligned edges. I see how some worker has worked to pull product up from the backs of the pallets and form the boxes into rows along the aisle to give the impression that the store is stuffed to the gills with merchandise. I keep my cart in the middle of the lane to avoid accidental contact with the carefully positioned goods and anything I chance to pick up but not buy is returned to its prior position perfectly faced with the other packages, right-side-up and label out. I know the effort that has gone into the presentation, that some worker has laid hands upon and carefully positioned everything that strikes my eye. And I know that if any part of it was less than perfect, some 21 year-old dickhead shift-manager would have berated the poor worker who had chanced to leave it that way while still exhorting him to work faster.

The truth was I couldn’t give a shit if the world was encased in ice or fire at that point. My shift was over and I was exhausted. My bedroom, such as it was, lay back up in the hills some 20 miles away and I had an appointment with the pistol I kept under the bed there before going to sleep. My big GMC Jimmy had crossed the mountain passes in the dead of winter more times than I could count so, no matter what the weather was, a trip across the valley and then up a few hills was an easy morning’s work. I locked in the hubs, flipped the floor mounted lever to 4 Wheel High and rolled smoothly out of the parking lot while other the other workers were still fishtailing their pitiful econoboxes around in circles next to their parking places.

The interstate was jammed and I eased my truck into line with everyone else unfortunate to be going somewhere that morning. We headed North at a snail’s pace to the scene of a massive pile-up. I looked in awe at the twisted wreckage, one of the cars on its side, still smoldering despite the steady stream of water the firetruck on-scene poured upon the hulk. Later, I learned the accident was fatal. Likely some other poor work-a-day shlub like myself trying to get to or from the place that barely paid for his daily bread. God rest his soul.

Where Interstate 5 North met Highway 2 I slipped off the three lane freeway and onto the two lane bridge known as “the trestle” that first spans the Snohomish river and then crosses the width of the flood-prone valley elevated upon row after row of concrete columns. This road, too, was crammed with cars moving no faster than a slow walk and the normally quick trip took an interminable amount of time. But as the end of the bridge gradually approached, I noticed one place where the cars dared not go.

Photo courtesy of WA State DOT

At the end of the trestle, Highway 2 takes a sharp right turn and heads South along the edge of the Snohomish valley before eventually resuming its Easterly route up over Stevens Pass. At the same point, an exit branches off towards the North and the town of Lake Stevens via another local highway. There is, however, a third option: a branch exit onto a road that leads dead east, right up and over the rim of the valley.

The road is one of those pieces of pavement that would never be built today. More than 300 feet tall, Cavalero Hill rises up like a sheer escarpment above the floor of the Snohomish Valley. From its top, a trip down the hill is like a ride over a waterfall. As you approach the edge of the precipice, the landscape on either side falls away and the horizon fills your vision. Ahead, the City of Everett sits atop what seems to be a small knoll and beyond it lies Possession Sound, Whidbey Island and finally the snow covered mountains of the Olympic Peninsula. For a moment it seems as though you will fly off into space, but then the road tilts and your perspective skews into a headlong dive towards the valley below. In the old days, that road went all the way to the floor of the valley and then up and onto a rickety two lane trestle where cars sped towards one another inches apart with no margin for error, but in the early ‘70s some thoughtful civil engineer designed an on-ramp that reaches up fully a third of the hill’s towering height and slingshots you down onto a Westbound bridge that whisks you safely across the valley.

Headed East, the way I was going that icy morning, an improved off ramp similarly reaches up onto the slope. But once you begin the ascent of the hill itself, engines strain to make the climb and drivers find themselves pushed back against their seat cushions while their vehicle struggles upward like an airplane fighting against a stall. Even in the heat of summer it is an arduous climb and now, that road stood as empty and icy as the Matterhorn

Photo by Thomas Kreutzer

From my position on the floor of the valley, the situation seemed hopeless. Everywhere I looked was a line of cars blocking my progress. To the South an endless, slow moving procession headed towards my home and to the North a similar line headed more-or-less away from my house. But ahead the hill was open and, deep inside of me, something simply snapped. I pointed the Jimmy’s hood ornament at the slope and mashed the gas.

I saw them looking. Mortal men and women trapped in their tiny cars as my massive GMC thundered by and accelerated towards the slope. People gaped, mouths fully open in shock and one man had the audacity to lay in his horn in a hopeless attempt to dissuade me from my chosen course of action. But no fucks were given that day my friends and I hit the hill at fully 50 miles per hour.

The earth tilted upwards and the sky filled my vision. The weight of my body shifted onto my back, like an astronaut preparing to launch into space, and the GMC began to claw its way up the hillside. The tires skittered on the icy pavement and the truck slipped to the side but I corrected the steering and stayed hard on the gas. One tire found traction and then the next and with increasing confidence and speed I rose up and out of the valley on a plume of snow and ice, ascending to the edge of the precipice and onto the flat ground beyond without incident while those below could only watch in amazement. I could not – would not – be stopped.

Maybe it’s crazy but something inside of me changed right then and that morning and before I went to sleep I made a conscious decision to leave the .45 where it belonged under the bed. The next day I did the same and, although my life didn’t get better right away, I never again picked that pistol up with the thought of turning it against myself. The world sucked, I knew, and the roads that I thought should have been opened to me after years of hard work and sacrifice had been jammed by the narrow minded bastards who had achieved their stations in life before I had thought to go there, but there was still a way ahead. I could stay trapped behind them forever or I could climb the hill and go farther than they ever dreamed. There was only one real way to go.

Thomas Kreutzer currently lives in Buffalo, New York with his wife and three children but has spent most of his adult life overseas. He has lived in Japan for 9 years, Jamaica for 2 and spent almost 5 years as a US Merchant Mariner serving primarily in the Pacific. A long time auto and motorcycle enthusiast he has pursued his hobbies whenever possible. He also enjoys writing and public speaking where, according to his wife, his favorite subject is himself.

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35 Comments on “Up And Out Of A Hopeless Situation...”

  • avatar

    interesting life story… maybe I missed it, what did you go to college for?

    • 0 avatar

      Initially it was to study Japanese and morphed into a Poli Sci degree with an eye towards eventually going to law school.

      • 0 avatar

        Do you think this is why you had a hard time finding work and not your age? It seems for political jobs you need to be politicslly connected, but not necessarily qualified.
        Sorry if this sounds weird, I have a hard time understanding what one does with political science major.

        • 0 avatar

          A polysci major is a misnomer. At least the one I took from OU. It would be more appropriately titled public sector management. It is not about politics so much as funding, the law, and management.

          It is a logical degree for military people and it should translate into civilian life as the overlap is great. I found it very helpful when I went into teaching

          OTOH, I didn’t get a job very easily either despite being “over qualified” so possibly you are right. Sorry to jump in there Thomas but I couldn’t resist.

          • 0 avatar

            That’s good, I’m on the tablet and dislike using it for detailed responses because I make frequent typos. But you wrote what I was going to say, the idea was to go into business or some other field that worked with regulatory issues or to possibly pair it up with the Japanese language for import/export.

            The problem is, because of my age, I was already too old for the ground floor and a lot of the people I was interviewing with ended up being younger than I was. I think they could see I was smart and that I was hungry and some of them realized that I would eventually end up being their rival.

          • 0 avatar

            Thanks for clarifying. I thought you just become mayor’s assistant or campaign manager.

  • avatar

    So you want a Range Rover life? The Jimmy/Suburban – look at those things. They run for years staring down the nozzle of a pump and keep going. Americans & guns I’m for more of it.

  • avatar

    Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate all your stories even though I seldom comment. If this is a piece of creative writing using poetic licence to get the reader in, it works. If this is accurately autobiographical, I sympathize and trust you have reached better times.

    Macbeth stated,
    “It (life) is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
    Signifying nothing.”

    With respect to the Bard, I disagree. Your tales, of events which I could not experience in the first person, reach and enrich my day.

  • avatar

    Good tale TK. I think a few of us have been in similar places and I’m glad to be here and able to look back on it now and just shake my head at “damn what was I thinking”.

    I clearly remember my turning point as well (but it dreally didn’t have the same symbolic imagery as yours!)

  • avatar

    The second I saw “No fucks were given”
    I knew the story was gonna be good.

    Great story bro.

  • avatar

    That story hit close to home except for the suicidal ideation. I was stuck in retail and warehouseing for close to 9 years after college graduation. I was a music major, so I brought some of that on myself. I did the overnight retail repleneshment thing for a couple of years before the company decided to start replenishment at 3:30am. It was like 3.5 shift. You got none of the benefits of working first or third shift. I was always tired and irritable. I got hit by a drunk driver on my way in to work for that job. There was also always a manager demanding more after you had already turned yourself inside out trying to finish the task.

    I quit that job and started working in a refrigerated warehouse. That wasn’t a much better decision. The management was still terrible and my working environment was an enormous freezer kept at -20F. Most of the warehouse’s trailer restraints were broken too. That was scary in the winter because the trailers would often slide forward when the ground was slick. I had some close calls on the forklifts. I finally got my act together a couple of years ago and started working for a software company. I have a nerdy streak and during those years of retail and warehousing, I taught myself SQL and PHP to code database driven websites in my spare time.

    I guess my point is, even if you feel like you’ve hit rock bottom, you can still claw your way out with some focused effort. When you feel the urge to kick the toaster into the tub, resist it :D

  • avatar

    Just bought a 4runner that has proven it can get stuck on level wet clay (bald tires) so don’t see myself climbing any mountains with it. Not soon anyway. Your other mountain though, (assuming a true story) I also climbed.

    As a recently retired Navy Senior Chief retiree with a bright shiny new BS sheepskin, I quickly realized that nobody cared about all the super important stuff I had accomplished. Funny thing though, when I dropped out of that Masters program and learned how to fix air conditioners (in Houston) there was more work than I really wanted to do. Is “over qualified” an expression you have heard before?

    That’s been in my rear view mirror for more years than I care to think about but your story made it come flying back.

    • 0 avatar

      Totally true. The only part I didn’t reveal was that about five miles up the road I ended up stopped behind a car on a banked curve and the road was so slick my stopped Jimmy slid across the banking and into the ditch. I had to go to four wheel low to crawl my way back out. It really was that slippery out.

      The Seattle area doesn’t get a lot of ice storms so it was a highly unusual day.

  • avatar

    Many of us have been there. I can relate to the author’s frustrations in finding your way thru life. They say, “all you gotta do is try”. Not quite. You really need to be in the right place in the right time, be it whether you are degreed or not or even have skills (or not). I have seen it throughout my whole career in IT. It’s maddening.

    Hopefully you are way beyond that point in your life now.

  • avatar

    Great story….. Thomas. I’m probably quite a bit older than you. Believe me, ageing doesn’t stop life from throwing you more curve balls. Remember, its not your first time at bat You may, or you may not, strike out. However, tomorrow, the Sun will still rise, and set.

    BTW.. I loved those trucks. Rust, and gas prices, have pretty well taken them off the road around here. They were so cool.

  • avatar

    Enjoyed the read. Best wishes.
    For my daughters and granddaughters copping out or dropping out of the educational system wasn’t and isn’t an option. Performance is expected.

  • avatar

    Great story! I graduated with a law degree and could not buy a legal job, so I sympathize. Ended up working a crappy retail job at Staples for a while. But it led to a better career than I would have had as a lawyer. I’m guessing that you are enough older than me that this was about the same time period – ’90s recession?

    Generation “Whine” think they have it so bad, but there is nothing new under the sun.

  • avatar

    Mr. Kreutzer, this article hit home for many reasons, I finished school at 31, worked retail 3rd shifts for quite some time, had to move home in my mid 20s, and dealt with depression/suicide issues over those years. It took losing my long term girlfriend to suicide and realizing the results of that act to get me motivated to not follow the same path. 6 years later I have 2 careers going for me, one in commercial transportation that I love, the other still in retail but I will not quit the job until my retirement is locked in. Yes the 75+ work weeks get old but at 33 I am a home owner with 2 solid means of transportation and my finances are in check (not to gloat to much…)

    I moved to Appalachia after the incidents took place up north and some of my local slightly redneck friends like to say, “When the going gets tough, put ‘er in 4LO and watch ‘er go!” Words to live by

  • avatar

    Thanks for a very engaging read. I enjoyed it. I lived up in that part of the world for a while, and your piece took me back; I can see it all in my mind’s eye again. I also drove an old four-wheel-drive in my youth, and it gave me a similar sense: while I wasn’t on the same track as many others, I had a sense that I could perhaps forge some new route. Daily driving the old Jeep was almost a philosophical statement.

  • avatar

    I can relate. Except for the “wanting to off myself” part.

    I spent close to 15 years in retail hating mankind in general and my life in particular, before I found my current gig. I swore I’d never be that Asshole Customer the store staff made voodoo dolls of.

    To this day, I return things I don’t want to buy to their proper locations. I never ask for help unless I’ve made a good-faith effort to find something myself. And I NEVER, EVER, EVER just walk up to a store employee and start talking to them – I say “excuse me, but can you help me?” first.

    I’m just slowly getting my life together myself. I was never that guy who would’ve made a good real-life inspiration for some TV hero – I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life by the time I was 10, for example.

    But that can be a good thing – at least you develop a wonderful sense of perspective in the process.

    Good story, by the way.

  • avatar

    Thanks for all the kind comments and the shared stories. I can’t comment on all of them but the reason the story rings true is because it is true. I bashed my head against the wall for years and eventually something had to give. Things got better, a lot better, and if that’s the case for me its the case for everyone. Anyone who has ever thought those thoughts needs to understand that and if you can’t then get some help.

    You might not ever fulfill your wildest dreams, but when you decide you have nothing left to lose you can put aside your pride and bull your way on through the hard times.

  • avatar

    Great story, and a great reminder that sometimes it is the little things, the light at the end of the tunnel or whatever, that can keep us going. The way I see it, when you hit rock bottom, the only way you can go from there is up, having that climb happen in such a literal way at the same time makes the story even more awesome :)

  • avatar

    Great story Thom!

    I wish you could have realized it at the time, and I wish I could have too, but I think there are more people out there with similar stories of struggle exist than we know.

    I think some version of this happens to everyone sometime in their life. I may not be job wise, it may not have to do with money or education, but it will happen in some form or another. I know alot of the guys who didn’t have to struggle like I did a decade ago (and you also did) had it much easier then. Unfortunately alot of them are now struggling with layoffs, underwater in homes they purchased at the wrong time in the market (who would have guessed) and a feeling like they might have picked the wrong career because they steamrolled through life without hardships or different roads taken.

    Seeing this makes me feel blessed.

    Thanks for the story ‘ol boy.

  • avatar

    Thom, is this article supposed to be about the GMC truck? Because it seems like when you write it is about being overweight, type 2 diabetes (usually caused by overweight), the Snocomish area has a crummy school system (with a class picture of surly teenagers), and now suicidal ideation. Have you considered an antidepressant? It can help! I didn’t know the area around Seattle was so depressing.

    • 0 avatar

      No, Seattle is really great, it only sucks when it rains.

      Jokes aside, seasonal depression is a real thing there and it probably colors a lot of my early experiences. Of course, it isn’t until you move away that you realize it. I’m writing about the feelings from the time and when I reach back they are still right there under the surface so they come out fresh again. I would imagine my time there has colored my outlook on life.

      As for the schools, I think my grade school education was great and is the basis for how far I’ve come in life. The reason I was able to start learning Japanese on my own was because I had the fundamental skills to teach myself anything I wanted. The upper level schools, too, I think are solid, but they are huge facilities with lots of kids and some people fall through the cracks. I was one of those. There is no way someone like me, with all my aptitudes for higher learning, should have been allowed to waste it. I’d like to think that in a more personal setting, some teacher might have given a shit and done a Mr. Holland on me, but where I was there just too many kids.

      The other thing I hope you, and everyone else takes from this is the fact that my life has moved on. As the title of the article indicates, I’ve climbed up and out. That’s supposed to be inspiring. Readers are supposed to look at it and think “If he can do it, I can do it.” I’m sorry if that’s not coming through for everyone.

  • avatar

    I hit a low point after washing out of Navy flight school. At one point I realized I had to make a decision and I decided I had to “keep on keepin’ on” as the movie character “Joe Dirt” would have said. Things gradually got better. After I got out of the Navy I too sailed in the merchant marine, on a tanker ship going to/from Valdez. I am also from WA state. My best friend had a Blazer like that one but jacked up with big wide tires, it hydroplaned like crazy on WA’s wet roads.

  • avatar

    Great writing Thom. My bottom didn’t include (much) suicidal ideation. I didn’t have anything I wanted to live for but thought I might be useful to the rich uncle (Sam) who had paid for so much of my childhood. I more than repaid him in my 10 years in the USN and ended up with new self respect in the PNW. I can’t write well enough to let you know it, but a lot of your stories are meaningful to me. Thanks.

  • avatar

    Great story. Like so many others I can relate, in fact it’s fairly recent for me.

    For the previous 12 years I had been working at a dealership and had climbed my way up from Lot Attendant to Parts Associate. The first 9 years weren’t bad. Not exceptional, but not bad. The last 3 years were nightmarish to say the least. Total stress and chaos. My wage was locked in; no raises for the rank and file and I was grossly under paid for what I did. My job was obviously selling and ordering parts, the thing was that we were understaffed as was and we also didn’t have a dedicated wholesale parts department, so even though I was back counter parts, I had to deal with the overflow from the retail counter, the retail phone calls AND the wholesale customers and I swear half of friggin’ Temecula were wholesale shops….. oh we did have a used car recon department, but they would drop their work load on us as their ‘parts guy’ was too busy looking up and such. Great guy. Used to be my friend but his corrupt boss took him under his wing and showed him how screwing people over would lead to success. Trying to stand up against them was fruitless; it was construed as ‘talking back’ and ‘having a bad attitude’ and ‘not being a team player’. Being that the recon manager was part of the owners family, I never had a chance anyhow. There were times where we had a line of customers on the front with the owner yelling at us for it, 5 phone calls at the same time with 5 on hold, 6 laundry list estimates waiting and the used car department dropping 3 more laundry lists and pulling parts that their guy was more then happy to bill out, but not pull. Are we having fun yet? Oh and there were only 3 guys available. We also didn’t have our own cashiers, we did it. Oh and I was the ‘go to’ guy. Need a PO for anything NOT parts related? See me! Didn’t want to bother with PO’s? See me! Need somebody to translate a spanish speaking customer for service, even though I don’t speak spanish? See me! Plumbing problems in the bathroom? See me! Need coffee made because you couldn’t be bothered? See me!Didn’t feel like doing your f***ing job, see me! It goes on and on. My joke was about that place was; you don’t get raises, you get responsibilities instead.

    Also they lied right to my face about raises, nope just more responsibilities. I quit asking in response. They finally hired somebody and they pay him more then all of us guys who were there for 10+ years right of the bat and all of us ran circles around the guy. So it went on for 3 years until I started getting sick easier, I started hacking and wheezing. Stress had gotten a foothold in life. It was made obvious that there was no advancement, I was stuck in a dead end; they were content with using me up until I was done and junking me. Then they fucked with my schedule, I remember having 3 6 day work weeks and being totally beat down and drained; the final straw was going to church and seeing the sadness and worry in my best friend’s eye when she saw me. That hurt more then anything else. I was done. At that point I knew I had to make a change. For me, for her, for my future and ESPECIALLY my health. Even though I was beaten down and battered, I never thought of suicide- BUT an early grave was very much a worry.

    One last thing and sorry about being so long winded, but to tie this up, my dealership hated employee deals. I had to BEG them to buy my Mustang, they couldn’t be bothered to sell me that car until I had to force their hand by seeing the general manager. When I wanted a 4WD Tacoma/ 4Runner, they didn’t want to find me a 4WD. Unfortunately I settled for a 2WD 4Runner and it turns out I got rooked badly too. I went ahead with it as I wanted to show loyalty to my company, but i should have walked. I would have paid less for a Lexus, no joke.

    After all that, I made up my resume, set my sights on a San Diego area dealership and was eventually hired. I was contacted HOURS after I submitted my resume to a San Diego area Toyota dealership. Now things are different- yes same job, but I do what I’m supposed to do. They are investing in my future, they’re having me be re-certified and will be sending me to Toyota’s classroom training sessions. A “payroll adjustment” is in the works, they actively discuss future plans with me and very much keep me in the loop, they applaud hard work. They reward effort. Feels good to have a future. Oh and on my 4Runner- during my second month of working, I talked to the used car manager about what had happened, he looked me in the eye and said- “wow, they f***ed you good.” However he said he would be more then happy to take my 4Runner and get me into a Jeep Wrangler for the payment I sought. Literally the next day a red ’12 Wrangler Sport came in on trade and I got it for exactly what I asked. They sold my 4Runner a week later as a Certified Used car. I liked my 4Runner, but it was a constant reminder of my old job and I wanted to cut all ties with it. I hope my 4Runner went to a family and will serve them well. I’m just grateful for a new start.

  • avatar

    There’s something to be said for being your own boss these days.

    1. Nice to be able to dictate your own fate/future instead of some douchebag superior.

    2. When I worked at a Jaguar/Land Rover dealer in service, I observed that the people who came in there with the most consideration for others, who weren’t concerned only with narcissistic bullshit, and who drove the newest and nicest cars (i.e. Weren’t penniless deadbeats trying to show off in some beater Freelander or X-Type) were their own bosses. Many of whom were not in glamorous industries. It was at that point that I decided I’d never let anyone else call the shots for me, and haven’t looked back since.

  • avatar

    Thanx Thom ;

    This one touches a little too close to my story for comfort , glad to see you’re still with us and doing well .

    You affect more people in a positive vein than I imagine you’ll ever know .


  • avatar

    “I saw them looking. Mortal men and women trapped in their tiny cars as my massive GMC thundered by and accelerated towards the slope. People gaped, mouths fully open in shock and one man had the audacity to lay in his horn in a hopeless attempt to dissuade me from my chosen course of action. But no fucks were given that day my friends and I hit the hill at fully 50 miles per hour.”

    Nice. You really do have the most fun sometimes in that state of mind, doing things that you can’t justify when potential consequences are a concern.

    There’s really no point in honking at the maniac on the road who affected you in no way aside from offending your sensibilities. That state of mind is probably not uncommon to him and he may have done this sort of thing hundreds if not thousands of times before. Just enjoy the show or ignore it. It has nothing to do with you. You’re like a random background car in a video game, and avoiding any contact with you is still one of his priorities, even if concern for personal safety has fallen to that of the lead video game character at that moment.

  • avatar

    “I saw them looking. Mortal men and women trapped in their tiny cars as my massive GMC thundered by and accelerated towards the slope. People gaped, mouths fully open in shock and one man had the audacity to lay in his horn in a hopeless attempt to dissuade me from my chosen course of action. But no ***** were given that day my friends and I hit the hill at fully 50 miles per hour.”

    Nice. You really do have the most fun sometimes in that state of mind, doing things that you can’t justify when potential consequences are a concern.

    There’s no point in honking at the maniac on the road who affected you in no way aside from offending your sensibilities. That state of mind is probably not uncommon to him and he may have done this sort of thing hundreds if not thousands of times before. Just enjoy the show or ignore it. It has nothing to do with you. You’re like a random background car in a video game, and avoiding any contact with you is still one of his priorities, even if concern for personal safety has fallen to that of the lead video game character at that moment. It’s not like things could get significantly worse for him anyway.

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