The Innkeeper Flew Off a Cliff ............ 8/31/21

      Getting my car        back soon. 

      After weeks of negotiating with my insurance com-pany for a better settlement, my car receiving meticu-lous care at an autobody and re-pair shop for the last two weeks.  

     On July 10th, my car flew over a cliff.  A friend was in it. And me.

     I wasn't driv-ing. Fancy that. 

     Before that won-derful experience, I could not drive by midafternoon. Heat exhaustion overtook me.  

     Earlier, we spent time exploring Lake Berryessa, scrambling toward a place to have fun. A six-mile stretch of gravel road our destination.  Our plan included drifting my car, and driving it sideways on that slippery road. 

      The extreme heat had me feverishly craving to pass out.  My friend stopped me from doing that.  From a safety in-service at work, he knew to not let me conk out.

      I could not breathe like a person underwater for 10 minutes.  My heartbeat was an out-of-control drum.  My body temperature flew like an eagle reaching for the sky.

    

     My eyelids could not stay still.  It was impossible to see or think.  The weather rose to 120 degrees that afternoon. (49.0 Celsius)

 

     Physically, no hope existed for my body in its delirious condition.  Panting like a dog left in a car on a sweltering day with shuttered windows best described me. 

     I suggested driving to a nearby lakeside farm to my friend, Eric, to seek aid.  When we pulled into their driveway, family and friends were sitting in the shade in the front yard. Their response just like ambulance paramedics when they saw me.

     Plastic bags filled with ice were under my armpits within four min-utes.  They had me remove my socks and shoes and poured ice water on my toes and ankles.  A yellow towel soaked in cold water gently wrapped around my neck.

    I'm glad they did not have me take off my pants, doing ice treatment there. 

    My head was doused.  I was as wet as a duck and grate-fully soaked, feeling im-mediate relief.  

     

     I chugged down the ice-filled glass of water they offered.  My body temperature gradually reached normal.  Soon, more fun to be had. 

     With many thanks, we left this friendly farm. Within five minutes, my companion drove us off a cliff.  With size 13 feet, his right sandal caught the accelerator pedal.  

      Instead of slowing down, we sped up.  We flew over a boulder-strewn dirt embankment with the windows down.  Dirt poured into my wide-open eyes as I sat there, shocked, strapped into my car.

      We tumbled down the ravine.  It was certainly more exciting than drifting. We careened towards three closely spaced redwood trees. 

     This heart-pounding adventure created a wild, spontaneous roller coaster ride, without the roller or coaster.  

      And ten times deadlier, too. Silly me, earlier, while delirious and overheated, I forgot Eric wore sandals.

      It escaped my mind when I asked him to scoot behind the steering wheel. I don't drive two blocks wearing sandals while handling my car's stick shift.  I remove them. 

      What was I thinking this afternoon? 

 

      I mean, his footwear was a ginormous size thirteen!  How could I overlook this safety issue?  Oh, yeah, right, at that moment, I was physically unable to think. 

    

        Shrubs stopped us before the vehicle slammed into the majestic but solid redwoods. For the next four days, I re-moved bits of dirt scratching my eyes, uncomfortable me-mentos of our weekend trip.

      With the bit of sense I owned, I called a tow com-pany.  Four hours later, a pony-tailed sixty-something tow truck oper-ator who jumped around the ravine as deftly as a goat used a steel cable to winch us out of a gully smack dab in the middle of the boondocks.

      My vehicle nosed into the bushes one hundred and fifty feet below the country road, providing my first experience in a flying car.  As it happened, all time stopped, and the car  bumped downwards in slow-motion.

      The tow truck driver's efforts cost 546 bucks. (503 Euros). He was worth every penny.  Once firmly on the road, I drove my baby one hundred and thirty miles home.  

     

     This sports car drove straight as a ruler down the highway as we re-turned to the San Francisco Bay Area. The vehicle did not stutter, the suspension was not damaged, and the wheels were not bent.  The en-gine ran well.  

    I rejoiced as if I were gulping down a rhubarb pie with whipped cream.  My baby showed healthy signs of life.  Instead of being dead, she demonstrated exuberance and vitality, though I drove her cau-tiously home. 

     Looking in the mirror of this roadster, I thought my hair had turned greyer, and I now had white hair because of that afternoon's flying adventure. This grey matter revealed itself as dirt when it swirled around my feet when I showered that night. 

     That Saturday, I had two adventures I could do without.  But Eric and I are thankful.  We are alive and kicking. 

 Note: 

      In January 2022, Eric and I visited the accident scene.  We had tumbled down a dirt and boulder-strewn embankment.  At the time, the ground was chopped up, re-sembling Styrofoam popcorn used for packaging. 

      The nature of the dirt slowed the car down.  During our revisit, we noted if we had gone off the cliff one second later, we would have slammed into massive, more than 300 feet tall redwood trees abutting the immediate shoulder of this forested country road.   

       You would not be reading this post. Or anything that followed.  Eric and I would be dead. 

"God's man is immortal until his            work is done."        Kenneth Wuest

      It is clear and fortunate God still wants to use both of us.

     Below are my gratitudes.  I'd love reading yours.

Gratitude For:

1. For my health and surviving flying off a cliff while in my sports car. 

2. Opportunities to slow down.  Do-ing so meets my need for rest, ease, and peace of mind.

    It is an easy mistaking ac-tivity for ac-complishment.  According to the Pareto Principle, 80% of what we do produces only 20% of the results we want, creating wasted time.  Twenty percent of how we spend our time produces eighty percent of the results.  This positive outcome re-veals working smarter, not harder. 

     Working on the productive twenty percent opens up my schedule, providing more time for rest and moments to enjoy the wonders life offers. 

3. For a vocation that nourishes me and provides adventure, creativity, and significance.  I love my work.  My need for effectiveness and con-necting with others takes place.

      During this Covid 19 outbreak, many suffer from depression, anxi-ety, and ear.  I enjoy helping others learn to make sense of the craziness that assaults them.  They develop skills and responses that help them overcome their negative feelings. 

4. Having a life I love and friends to go with it.  It is emotionally encour-aging to be smiling throughout the day. 

Like not dying after going over a cliff. 

5. For being persis-tent, detailed-orient-ed, determined, and disciplined.  These qualities help me move forward, knowing progress and success. 

6. For worrying eighty percent less than I once did.  Living seventeen years and five months with recovery make the difference.  It taught me:

a. The loudest voice within me, my emotions, are not necessarily the truest.  

b. My feelings are simply emotions, not necessarily a prophecy. 

c.  I can say my no as gently as my yes. 

d. If I feel like a doormat, I must get up off the floor. 

And perhaps most importantly:

e. As I become more comfortable with my likes, dislikes, dreams, and choices, I am increasingly able to risk other people's disa-pproval.  This is overcoming codependency. 

7. Because of recovery, I know how to have authentic relation-ships. I do not relate openly with everyone. The key is developing my people picker---discernment.

      But with discernment, I know how to find positive, kind, and sup-portive people.  I connect with them.