I was really enjoying myself on the way home from work today. It was a beautiful day and there wasn’t anybody in front of me on the road. This is particularly nice since it’s a tiny, winding road that follows the coast and has a lot of corners and I find that a lot of people are too scared to go the speed limit. I am not. I’ve driven Chuckanut many, many times, thus making it very irritating when people are going 25 in the 40.
This almost changed half way home when a truck pulled out in front of me. I have a little silver car and I think people either don’t see me or think I’m going to be slow. Fun Fact: I’m not. I had to slam on my breaks, which caused my car to start to go to one side. I felt myself losing control and heading towards the wall of the cliff beside the road, but was able to get back under control.
The first thing I felt was relief. I was so happy that I wasn’t smashed into a wall or into the side of a truck. The next wave of emotion that hit me was pure mother fucking rage. “How dare you?” I said just now as myself pretending to be me then, “How dare you almost kill me? How dare you almost ruin my day and my car?” I wanted to scream at that driver! I wanted to honk and blast my Ghost BC as loud as I could, just because they had one of those stupid Jesus fish on their bumper.
I didn’t. I kept driving, though I was going slower than the speed limit now because the truck was too afraid to GO THE SPEED LIMIT! Can you tell this is one of my biggest pet peeves? But then I took stock of my body and realized that my chest was hurting. During the near miss, my seatbelt had stopped me from flying forward into the steering wheel or out of the windshield. This would have been especially true had the near miss hadn’t been a miss.
Something similar happened when I was 17.
My Dad was taking me to dinner in his work truck, which was an old, beat up, 199-whatever piece of shit. I don’t know how that thing was running. We were starting to turn left when my door opened. To be fair, my Dad may have had something to do with this since he is not the safest driver in the world and had taken the turn a bit faster than I would have.
So, the door opened and my body started to go with the turn, which would have been out of the door. But I stopped. My seatbelt had gone tight and I was hanging out just far enough to grab the door and swing it shut as I got inside.
Are you seeing a pattern here? I don’t see anything more Satanic than wearing your damn seatbelt. Seriously, it’s the easiest thing in the world to do, besides maybe using your blinker, and it will save your life. It will save you from going through the windshield and dying or smashing into the steering wheel and dying. It’s only job is to keep you alive. Wear it.
My Mom explained it to my the best when she said “Not everybody is going to be making the best decisions for you, so you have to make the best decisions for you”. It flows really well with the quote from Anton LaVey that reads “Life is the great indulgence – Death the great abstinence. Therefore, make the most of life here and now!”
This is wonderful advice, and yet I feel a sense of caution here, too. Life is the only time we get to party, drink, eat, and fuck! You can’t do that when you’re dead. So yes, live life to the fullest while you’re here, but don’t do anything that will cause the proverbial bar to close.
Another wonderful quote from my apparently very Satanic Mother is “Have fun, be safe, and make good choices”. She says this all the time and I always take it to heart. You should, too.
So have fun, be safe, and make good choices, my Little Lucifers.
And wear your god damn seatbelt.