Crashing in Lodi --- Really! CRASHING!!

        He didn’t exactly come out of nowhere – it was a four-lane street and he simply sideswiped me. I felt, more than saw, the huge vehicle slide into mine and knew immediately that this was not a serious accident.
        My little Saturn seemed almost to bounce off of the big four-wheel-drive pickup. The truck was high off the ground, atop giant wheels.
        In fact, those enormous rubber doughnuts, combined with the plastic body of my car were the reason I had that bounce perception.
        Upon inspection, it was apparent that nothing but rubber had contacted the Saturn. The truck literally “ran over” my driver’s side mirror, pretty much demolishing it; and it left treadmarks on the door as it attempted to climb onto the roof.
        Fortunately, my young attacker had good reflexes and brought his monster truck under control before it could pancake the Saturn and all of its cargo - - including me!
        A late start combined with a stopover south of Stockton for a soda and stretch, put me on Kettleman Lane just after dark. My GPS-powered PDA told me I had just over a mile to go and all seemed well with the world.
        I was prepared for adversity. Over the past weeks, dozens of people have reminded me that travel cross-country is frought with danger.
        I’ve given their input a good deal of thought and a stock answer emerged; “I’m ready to take things as they come.”
        Weather, road construction and detours, problems with reservations, mechanical failure and even traffic accidents are all part of the deal for travelers and I believe I was and remain ready for any that don’t’ prove fatal to me or the Saturn. In fact, if the Saturn dies, I may get a replacement and continue the trip.
        As mentioned above, I was certain seconds after tonight’s collision that it was not a trip-killer. And I knew that I had five days in Lodi to get the car ready for the drive to Auburn.
        So I wasn’t a bit angry or even much concerned as I climbed out of my car and greeted the young fellow who had been driving the truck. I noted his “wife beater” shirt and broad tattoos, but something in his manner put me at ease and we never exchanged an unpleasant word.
        In fact, I was quite impressed by the way he conducted himself – he deferred to me in the initial stages of our interaction and then assumed a leadership role when I encouraged him to become the problem solver.
        We agreed that the only real damage was to the mirror and he offered to get that fixed. Moreover, he said he had access to tools and supplies that could erase the black rubber marks from my door. I’m a bit ambivalent about that as they could serve as a significant artifact of the trip; I’ll have to see them in the daylight to determine whether, for me, the historical and artistic value merit keeping them as a sort of symbol of my surviving the perils of Kettleman Lane in Lodi.
        I’m certain that my new young friend would have much preferred that my little car hadn’t ventured into his blind spot at such an inopportune moment; but I must confess that, pending any unforeseen hitches in tomorrow’s efforts to replace the mirror, I’m rather happy about the whole thing.
        When you get your motor running and head out on the highway looking for adventure in whatever may come your way, you better be ready to take a few lumps along the way.
        I’m off to a great start!