Body Count

Friday night I stepped out of my doorway to check the mail, when I noticed that my truck was parked out in front of the apartment. I normally park around back - more out of habit than anything else, but for whatever reason this day I opted to pull up to the edge of the sidewalk instead.

Funny how sometimes that one little thing you do
differently changes the whole world around it.

Because it was out front, because I live on a one-way street (in what isn't the best part of town) I decided to step out to the road and make sure the doors were locked. As I suspected the driver's side door wasn't (dumb as it sounds, I hardly ever remember to lock my doors), so I reached in to hit the switch

That's when I noticed the smell.

The cab reeked of beer.
Cheap beer at that.

The funny thing is that nothing else really registered immediately. I somehow didn't really see the glass all over the seat, or feel the cold air rushing in. It took a couple of seconds for everything to kind of click. But as I worked to process the idea that an aroma like that was all over the truck when I hadn't ever really had a beer in there (much less poured it out onto my upholstery) it finally became clear what had actually happened..

I had been the victim of a drive-by

Someone driving down my street had tossed a half-empty bottle of bud out their window, which sent it sailing through the air until it crashed right into mine, leaving a neat little hole and a million little cracks in the safety glass all around.

There's this feeling. This sort of sinking "what the hell?" that comes over you in a wave, sort of like a sweat or a sense like someone is staring at you intently. And then suddenly it was like there was glass everywhere, like I couldn't stop seeing it.

Frustrated, I slammed the door while mouthing obscenities, which only succeeded in breaking even more of the window, sending it cascading down into the driver's seat.

All so random. It could have been any car
on the road when you think about it..

Now the space where the back windshield used to be is covered up with duct-taped on garbage bag -- finally offering my pickup truck the chance to live up to it's hallowed redneck roots. They're sending a dude out to fix it on Wednesday -- but every time I close my door, or drive over a bump, or shift my butt in my seat you can hear a little piece of glass fall away. It's like some comedy gag that won't end.

All I had to do was park in the back, like I always do

But Nooooooo...

[Listening to: XTC, "Making Plans for Nigel"]