The guardrail was coming closer. Beer bottle tucked, now jammed between his legs at his crotch, Harp Miniewski had just enough time to think in metaphor.
“You’ve been bouncing off guardrails all your life.”
When the Jeep hit the real guardrail, Harp knew he wouldn’t bounce. He could feel the roll coming, and it came.
He had been almost giddy when she handed him the keys at 7:31 am and said “the Vape & Ale is open, go get us more drinkies.”
The Jeep, white with some fuchsia striping and stickers of anime characters he had never heard of was not the vehicle he envisioned being in when his reckless life came to an end.
Things began to crash, and hum and snap in a distinct lack of rhythm. Harp felt his body being twisted in ways he had never felt before. Then the movement stopped.
He breathed.
Had he been holding his breath?
Was it two rolls or three? However many it was Harp was almost positive he was sitting in the correct position to drive.
Except the windshield was completely shattered and the dashboard was cracked in a few places.
One of Harp’s first sensations was that his crotch was wet, and he thought of his new friend’s wet crotch. She was lovely, late 20’s, funny, sexy, open, free, giggly.
One of the anime stickers on the dash was ripped in two.
The sticker was Harp’s first indication that his new friend would be upset. What was her name again?
Well, he was alive, with a wet crotch, and it wasn’t even his car. The girl was nice, but if he couldn’t even remember her name, was he obligated to tell her he wrecked her car?
All the wet crotch and backrubs and lines of cocaine off her tits magic would be gone.
Had they exchanged phone numbers? He didn’t want what’s her name to call when he was home with Amy.
Harp realized his head was bleeding too. That one would be hard to explain to Amy.
She was so patient. He should stop cheating on her.
Today was the day. He would leave this girl’s Jeep right where it was, and walk home and be good to his wife. That makes sense, right, Harp? He said to himself.
Home. He would go home.
He unbuckled the seat belt and pulled the latch on the door.
It was stuck until he pushed on it hard and it came part way open. Enough for him to get out.
He felt bad for the Jeep girl. He was sorry he ruined her stickers.
Harp had a vague idea he would stop behaving like he had been, when he stepped out of the Jeep he was about to abandon and his tibia poked through his pants.
***
Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
Oof! Brutal. Loved it.