Not Entirely Unscathed

We made a few trips to Manitoulin while our finances recovered. Bev and I are both savers, for the most part, so it wasn’t long before we were out from under what we thought was financial destitution. The mine did not close, despite the endless predictions of doom and gloom. I was making more money, I was climbing the ranks, I was looking forward to what the future brought.

It brought Hunter.

We returned to Manitoulin a couple more times, driving round and round, discovering back roads and short cuts, checking out souvenir shops and craft stores, and checking out the Island’s natural beauty. Bridal Veil Falls, Providence Bay, the North Shore. We enjoyed ice cream in Little Current. We ate fish and chips while watching the Chi-Cheemaun come in at South Baymouth. I say we, but I mean me. Bev had already experienced these things from years of her own circle tours and nosing around.

Hunter loved it there. We taught her to swim (that sounds silly, but she had to learn in stages). She could be free and run with abandon. She ran and swam so much that she fell asleep sitting up, her eyes inching closed, her head stiffly upright.

One day a bat made its way into the camp bedroom. It flew round and round, banking inches from my face. Hunter lay on the floor next to me, her nose tracking the bat’s circuits. I thought about what my chances of knocking the bat down were, then decided that they weren’t good, so I slipped of bed, crawling on all fours to the back door. I felt the bat’s draft waft across my scalp while I did. The bat must have done ten more circuits before I got there. I opened it, hoping that other bats wouldn’t join him while it gapped open. He finally found his way out, Hunter still watching him, having never moved once during the whole affair.

“A lot of help you were,” I told her when I slid back in bed.

She wagged her tail and flopped her head back onto the floor.

The next day we heard more bats in the walls, so we hunted down and closed as many holes in the walls as possible.

And in time, the future brought a car accident. Yes, another one.

I hadn’t slept well in years. Shiftwork can do that to people. I’d have a hard time falling asleep and then I had a hard time staying asleep. Lawnmowers and snowblowers blared at all hours during the day. Sun found its way into my bedroom despite the room darkening blinds. Birds chirped and cawed. Dogs barked. Neighbours called out to one another over distances. And there were errands to do. I’d get up early to do them. And when they were done, I’d be awake for the duration whether I tried to nap or not. I’m not a napper. Whatever the reasons, I was averaging five hours a “night.” Transitions from Days to Nights and then Nights to Days were worse, with my being awake for twenty-four or even thirty-six hours at a time.

So it comes as no surprise that I fell asleep at the wheel driving home after my final Night shift, only five blocks from home, drifting into the snowbank at speed. What speed? I don’t know; I was asleep. But it was fast enough because when I woke it was to a loud and hollow rumble and a dark rush of white cascading over my windshield. The snowbank slowed my speed, thank god. It almost kicked me back out onto the road, but sadly, it did not. The telephone pole did. I saw a dark shape resolve in the rushing snow, and then when I crashed into it, I saw it flung and spun as it whirled into the sky. The passenger headlight shattered, the chrome bumper collapsed and the Jimmy’s rear end swung wide, back out into the street. It continued that arc, sliding wide and around, the rear bumper plunging back into the snowbank again, far forward of where I’d cleaved off the pole.

I remained in the vehicle for a moment, a little stunned, yet remarkably unhurt. I looked around, saw the gouge that I’d left in the snowbank far to the left of me, back where I’d come from.

What I did next was stupid. I opened the door and got out. I had no idea if there were powerlines over my vehicle. I could have been electrocuted. Once I was out, I saw them scattered and overlapping one another across the street, but until that time, I was oblivious to their existence, let alone their potential danger.

A car approached. The driver asked if I wanted him to call the police. I thought it a stupid question, but what he was really asking was if I’d already called them. Cell phones were everywhere by then.
The cop arrived, asked me what happened and I stupidly admitted to falling asleep at the wheel. That automatically landed me a Careless Driving charge. He did not cut me a break. He wanted to charge me with speeding too, but he probably thought that he couldn’t make it stick.

When he asked me how fast I was going? I said, “How do I know? I was asleep.”

“How fast were you going before you went asleep?”

“I don’t know. I was falling asleep.”

Long story short, I was fined, I had to buy a new car, I had to pay for the Hydro pole, and my insurance went through the roof for years to come.

That was an expensive snooze.