Highway of Death OR How Rituals Rule My Life

Rituals don't really rule my life. I just said that cause it sounded cool.

I am just back from another death defying drive on the HIGHWAY OF DEATH. Used to call up Jackass upon entering the death corridor, to effect my ritual... Now I have so graciously been given the reluctant yet still willing assistance of J. The ritual is simple... It doesn't take much from him to do his little part. Unless, of course, I actually DO die and then it will be tougher. He'll have to take time off of work, travel here, some how manage to commandeer my dead body from whomever thinks it should belong to them, have me cremated and then hurl my earthly remains at a strategic moment from the very top of the Matterhorn Ride at Disneyland, hoping that I'll end up dusted over some ones fries at the happiest place on earth. That could be rough for him but I know he is up to the task.

So, I managed not to die yet again. Which is stunning, this time really, cause I took a bunch of photos while I drove***. (Police report "Apparently decedent was attempting to photograph a sign which reads 'Stay Alert - Stay Alive' when she lost control of her vehicle and crashed...") ALIVE, ALIVE, ALIVE!

The alive part doesn't surprise me so much. It was the sharp pain I experienced as I passed Cleghorn Rd. That really took me back. Last time I traveled on the highway of death was the day Jackass called, after so much not calling, and started my most recent decline into woe and weeping. So, I half expected him to call me again today with some kind of "Memory Lane" radar supplying the key moment to dial. But the source of my sharp pain was not a phone call but a memory.

Last time Jackass and I were together in a ME&YOU fashion was right freaking there on that off ramp at Cleghorn Road. That's where we sat in the truck and just sniffed each other. Kissed. Wondered what in the hell we were gonna do with our sad selves. Said "God, I miss you" and "Yes, me too."

Wow.

Driving by was like getting smacked in the head by a frying pan. Here's the thing. I did not cry. There was nothing nutty or needy about my reaction. It was just straight up loss. I feel like he's died but he's not been buried (or burned up and thrown off a roller coaster). All of my separation is not imposed by death and subsequent decay... It's imposed by my own decision. My weak and sad parts just wanna get my rational and reasonable parts drunk and then give him a call.

So, respect the death highway. You never know what evilness it will employ to catch you.

***Don't try this at home. It was stupid and I'm a professional.