Turning Left

I have always been bad at guessing.

How far two items are in relation to each other.

How fast an object is moving.

How long would a project take to finish.

This is probably why, even after 13 years, I still get stressed behind the wheel of a car. When driving, I have to make mental calculations based on speed and distance. It’s awful! It is like constantly being in an essay question for math: if Car A is going 60 miles per hour one way and Car B is going 65 miles per hour the same way, how long will it take before Car B overtakes Car A?

See, awful! And the real world is a lot less straightforward with a lot bigger stakes. If I get the question wrong, I lose a point. If I estimate something wrong while driving, it can cost me a pretty penny in car repairs.

I would never buy an expensive or new car. Too risky. If I accidentally guess wrong how close the telephone pole was to the bumper of my black 2006 Toyota Corolla, no one is going to get upset. The four dents and countless scratches actually add character to my car.

Left turns, now that is stressful. Not only do you have to guess correctly, but you also have to hope that the person going straight will have guessed correctly in terms of speed. Normally, I am a trusting person, but living in Los Angeles long enough makes me trust a driver as much as I would trust a lion to babysit my six-year-old son.

I blame my lack of a mind’s eye for my spatial struggles. My regular eyes aren’t any better. I need to see an optometrist. Been saying that for 19 months. Has it been 19 months? That was just a guess. Maybe it was only three months. My wife would know.

Focus on turning left. Fortunately, the rhythmic clicking of the signal can be soothing.

Click click. Click click. Click click.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK

A car behind me presses its horn. Honking at me doesn’t help me be a better guesser or go faster. Rather, it just adds to my stress. If I hadn’t already been sweating due to the 93-degree weather, I would have been sweating due to the pressure from the other driver.

Wish part of my car’s character included AC. The poor ice cream cake is melting faster than me. I could have turned left again, but I would have been cutting it close. The car behind me once again voices its frustration toward my wary driving. Their horn reminds me of a hungry goose.

My wife is frustrated by my cautious nature when it comes to driving. Well, not just in driving. People have called me overly cautious or, if they are less kind, neurotic. I don’t mind the labels, as I know my anxiety keeps me safe. I don’t take risks. I try to plan as best as I can. Helps me avoid having to make any unnecessary guesses.

Guesses… I told my wife that getting the ice cream cake was going to take 15 minutes, max. I have been gone for 22 minutes and 48 seconds (this is not a guess. Rather, I set a timer for myself). She has only sent me three angry texts so far asking where I am. I toss my phone as I ignore the messages. I only pay attention when she calls. Better for my mental health.

What would have been better for my mental health was to say no to buying an ice cream cake at the last minute. Had I said no, the ice cream cake nor I would be melting in the heat while waiting to turn left.

But how could I say no to my son? It was his birthday and we did ask him what dessert he wanted for the party. It was not his fault that I underestimated how long it would take to bake and chill a cheesecake. I stretched myself too thin. Not only did I offer to bake the dessert, but I decorated the house with Minecraft memorabilia. He loved it and so did the 12 friends who he invited to his party.

The kids also loved the burger bar I set up. Granted, all they used was the ketchup and the cheese. I wasted way too much time cutting up and prepping all the accouterments. I should have none. What kid cares if I made a homemade aioli?

In truth, I wanted to keep busy. I had guessed wrong how long the job hunt was going to take. I wanted to feel useful as I was no longer financially providing for my family. The party was my chance to show my wife and son what I can do. Instead, I infuriated my wife with my wild ideas and disappointed my son.

Another thing I guessed wrong was how valuable I am to my family.

I should have said no to the party. I would have avoided being in this sticky situation, sitting on sticky leather seats as the cake makes the passenger seat sticky with melted vanilla and dreams.

The Kinks’s “Picture Book” begins playing from my phone. The upbeat music is a harbinger of an angry wife. Trying to keep my less than 20/20 eyes on the road, I look around my car for the source of the song. The sweat is making it harder to see. Where did my phone land? There is a temporary silence before the song plays again.

Two calls. I am in trouble.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK

I ignore the driver behind me as I search for my phone. It must have fallen between a crack. I am less than a minute away from home, I think. I look at the ice cream cake and see liquid begin to escape from the box.

The song stops.

There is a red car heading my way, but it has its right turn signal on, and it appears to be slowing down. This may be a chance. “Picture Book” begins to play again.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK

It is amazing how many factors go into a quick decision. I finally turn left…

I have always been bad at guessing.

Guessing the speed of an oncoming car.

Guessing the distance between two cars.

Guessing the distance between life and death.