another one

Years ago, I drove a small, bright yellow car that looked kind of sporty to me, but that probably looked dorky to most other people. I worked full time, had a volunteer job, lived in the suburbs, and went to school two nights a week, usually in Boston.

One night, I left work a little late and was trying to cut every known corner to get to class on time. I was fine with being a little late except that the class was fairly crowded and the last few people to arrive had to sit on the floor. (I seem to recall that the crowdedness eased part-way into the semester. It probably wasn't the most brilliant course I took.) It was early spring; our wintry deep freeze was lifting, people were wearing light jackets, and it was still light out.

One of my shortcuts was to drive along the river on the Cambridge side, cross the river into Boston, turn left down the main street and continue to my garage. The main street had a wide median strip with trolleys running in either direction.

You couldn't actually turn left directly. At the place where you wanted to turn left, you were supposed to continue straight across the intersection, loop around a semi-circle, and eventually turn right. Depending on traffic and lights, that loop could add precious minutes and I couldn't take the risk. I really didn't want to sit on the floor for several hours.

I figured that given my adherance to the rules the rest of the time, and given that there was no oncoming traffic, I could make the left turn without getting caught and zoom over to the garage, ensuring myself a seat in the classroom.

Except, when I turned left, I ended up on the trolley tracks. Did you know that the pavement under those tracks drops away fairly quickly after the intersection? I had never noticed that before, and I didn't realize that I was on the tracks until the pavement dropped away to large rocks. Oh cool!, I thought, I'm driving on the tracks! Until I wasn't. The rocks fell away a few more inches and I was stuck at a jaunty angle half way between two intersections. The equipment under my car was resting on the tracks and my wheels were dangling in the air.

I saw a cop driving down the road. Because I was so stuck I didn't even care if I was busted for turning left, I flagged him down. He pulled up, looking confused about why anyone would think to stop him and talk to him. I'd studied some Spanish, and remembering that many things in that language just happen (My keys dropped themselves, My book lost itself), I said "My car seems to have become stuck on the tracks." His look went from confusion to boredom. Yawning, he said that he'd call a tow truck and drove off.

Did I mention it was a warmish night? I sat in my car, the windows rolled down. Then the first trolley came. Of course, it couldn't get past my car. People started getting off the trolley so that they could at least make progress by walking. A few of them started jeering at me. I rolled up the windows.

Then the other trolley came, headed in the opposite direction. It couldn't make any progress either. More people streamed off. It was kind of hard not to notice my bright yellow car sitting exactly where it wasn't supposed to be, but I tried to disappear, and I almost did, at least in my own mind. I stared straight ahead as if I had no idea where I was or how I got there.

And then, four enormous men strolled up to my car -- the kind of guys who long ago stopped playing football and started watching it, who probably drink lots of beer and get riled up after a game, the kind of guys I typically try to avoid on the street, for whom I typically make myself invisible. Without communicating much with each other beyond grunts, they each stood at a corner of my car and lifted the whole thing up with me inside. They carried me to the next intersection, I feeling like I was in a royal coach. Then they put me down, told me to get out of there, which I was only too happy to do, and vanished.

I drove off as fast as I could, parked my car, grabbed some dinner, and got myself to class. I was not only on time, but I got to sit in a chair -- it was the people who came after me who had to sit on the floor.