True Confessions about Driving at Night

The optical viewing devices of my biomechanical suit are wearing out....

  I don’t want to be “That Guy.”

  You know “That Guy.”

  That Guy who complains loudly, makes a scene at a restaurant when there’s something wrong with the food (I’m not That Guy).

  That Guy who yells at customer service people on the phone (I’m not THAT Guy.  Okay, I USED to be but not since I walked in customer service reps shoes when I had that job for a short bit in Florida.)

  That Guy…That OLD Guy…who drives slowly through traffic.

  Well…

  I reckon I MIGHT be That Guy.

  First thing…to be clear…I can see just fine to drive from dawn to dusk.

  Second thing is, to be clear, I can see to drive at night if there are streetlights.

  Lots of streetlights.

  Or if I know the road really well.

  I wanted to get those things out of the way in case someone thought I was a hazard to navigation.

  It’s not like stuff is blurry or anything…there just doesn’t seem to be enough light.

  It took me by surprise, this giving up on driving at night.

  I had a clue last September when The Lady of the House and I were getting the hell out of Florida.

  Our last night there we were staying at The Lady of the House’s sister’s house.  The two of them sent me out to a fast food joint to get some munchies.  I was in unfamiliar territory rolling through a hunk of the county that had few streetlights.

  Sidebar comment:  If you move to Florida or visit there, don’t get freaked out by the pitch black county roads outside the tourist areas.  Florida officials apparently believe that they shouldn’t spend money lighting highways smothered by trees, that if you can’t see shit at night “Yew don’ need ta be on our roads.”

  Anyway I returned to sister’s house with a bag of fried carbohydrates and bird bits.

  “Wow,” I said, “I’ve never driven out here in the dark.  I think I’m having a spot of bother with my night vision.”

  The Lady of the House looked at me.

  “Well let’s see how the trip goes,” she said.

  We left Florida behind and headed west back home to New Mexico.

  By the time the sun set that day…I can’t remember if we parked-up in Louisiana or Texas…but I really didn’t have much of a problem, the highway was wide and well marked.  The next day it was dark by the time we reached Wichita Falls, no problem there either.

  We made it back to New Mexico and settled in.

  Then we took that day trip to the state park over near Quitaque, Texas.

  We had a grand time walking and driving around Caprock Canyons State Park, looking at the buffalo and such.

  Then it was time to go.

  We took a lesser used two-lane highway that was a straight shot home.

  Big mistake.

  The sun set and I realized I was in trouble.

  I had big trouble seeing the road.

  “You can’t see either?” I asked the Lady of the House as the old road markings faded in and out…they hadn’t been painted in years.

  “How long have we been together?” she said, “14 years?  You know I can’t drive at night.  Welcome to the club.”

 To add to the excitement of having trouble seeing there were giant mashed, and sometimes not mashed, dirt and manure clods in the road that had fallen from 18-wheelers driving in and out of fields.

  So I resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to zip along this Texas highway at 55, I’d have to take it at 25 or 30 miles an hour.

  We made it home with no problem.  Late at night, but no problem.

  Not long after that we had the family all pile in the car and we headed to the kids’ favorite Chinese restaurant…miles away in another town…as it got dark.

  When we got there everyone got out of the car and kind of stared at me.

  “Let Justin drive back home,” said The Lady of the House, talking about the son.  “You gave them quite the scare.”

  “Really?” I said.  “Nothing happened.  What about you?”

  The Lady of the House just smiled at me turned and went inside the restaurant.

  Then one day The Lady of the House saw an ad on the TV for some yellow glasses designed just to help driving at night.  She ordered some similar ones from Wally World for six bucks.

  They arrived just in time for us to take the family out on the town for dinner.

  We piled in the car, I put on my new “special” flip-up glasses and took the driver’s seat.

  The kids all looked at each other.

  “Now don’t be afraid,” I said.  “I have these super-duper yellow glasses that are supposed to light up the night.”

  I hadn’t driven but about a quarter of a mile before I tried to go straight from a right turn only lane.

  “No problem,” I said, “Nobody’s on the left, I’ll just move over.  Now y’all just speak up if my driving bothers you.  We’re all family here.”

  Then I came to an intersection.

  I couldn’t figure out why the stop sign was across the street.  I flicked on my turn signal and started to turn.

  “You’re turning into a parking lot,” said the grandson in the back seat.

  “Oh,” I said, a bit troubled that a 13 year old saw something I didn’t, “THAT’S why the stop sign is across the street, ‘cos this isn’t a street.”

  When we got to the restaurant everyone was standing around smiling at me when I got out of the car.

  “Well, so much for my super-duper yellow night vision glasses, “ I said.

  Everyone still just stood there and smiled.

  “Okay,” I said, “Justin can drive us back to the house when we’re done.”

E P I L O G U E

  You see there’s a bunch of stuff wrong with my eyes.

  Back in 2008, the eye doctor diagnosed me with “the most aggressive case of Glaucoma” he’d ever seen.

  The condition, marked by high pressure in the eyeball that destroys the “rods and cones” in there, had done some serious damage.  I could still see but it wouldn’t take much for me to lose my sight.

  I got mad about the situation for a couple of days then accepted my fate…that I’d have to use eye drops to keep the condition arrested for the rest of my life.

  I had a side experience with cataracts back in 2014, but had that taken care of.

  When I saw the eye doctor in Florida and he looked in my eyeballs and saw the ravages of a nasty case of Glaucoma he practically yelled at me that I was too nonchalant about my condition, that I wasn’t taking it seriously.  I told him I didn’t like his “bedside manner” and what the hell did he expect me to be, all sad and depressed and humming “The Song of the Volga Boatmen” all day?

  I never went back to see that guy.

  The next eye doctor I saw in Florida peered in my eyeballs and said, “Oh my God.”

  She leaned back and stared at me.

  “So you, as an eye doctor, what does it look like?” I asked.  “A war zone?  A haunted house?”

  “It’s bad,” she said.

  “Yep,” I said.

  No, my vision problems are a combination of Glaucoma and the goo inside each eyeball getting old.

  There will come a day when I won’t be able to see to drive at all.

  And I promise I’ll give up the keys gracefully.

  Funny though, I really don’t have a problem riding a bicycle in the dark.