Some places I have slept in my van:
- In a parking lot
- In a very dodgy parking lot
- The side of a highway
- On the beach
- In a driveway
- On a side street in the middle of a busy city
- At a campsite
- In the middle of sand dunes
- At a construction site
- The side of a dirt road
- The side of a paved road
- In a field
- In a forest
- In a very scary alleyway
- The bottom floor of a parking garage
- In a fancy hotel parking lot
- Under a bridge
- On a quiet street in suburbia
Now, of all these places, where would you guess I got side-swiped at 3 AM? The side of a highway right? Or maybe in that pesky side street in Wellington? The dodgy parking lot maybe?
Nope. Nope. And Nope. Surprisingly, it all happened in quiet suburbia, far from the noisy city and bar lights; my poor van Pip got creamed.
Last night, after falling into a restful sleep next to a beautiful blue house with a white picket fence I was jarred awake by what I initially thought was a bomb. In my near-panicked state I quickly realized a bomb was highly unlikely and that it had been a violet earthquake. But aren’t earthquakes usually more than 2 seconds long? It was then that I saw the taillights of a swerving car driving around the next corner. Those (insert preferred swear word here) hit me! The pitch-black darkness and accompanying fog made it impossible for me to make out a license plate number, and to be honest, I was far too groggy and disoriented to think that fast anyway.
Jumping out into the freezing night in nothing but my Hanes boy-cut undies and (by no intentional decision) matching black v-neck shirt, I assessed the damage. My bike hung steadily on the bike rack on the back of Pip. I spun the tire closest to the street and noticed it was a little wobbly. Looking around the rest of the car I concluded that the other vehicle had very loudly grazed the bike and continued on their way. Satisfied with this explanation, I crawled back into the van and spent the next 3 hours playing scenarios of all the ways I could die while sleeping in my car (a bit morbid, I know) until I finally fell into a fitful sleep.
The hazy light of day sent my bike theory all to hell.
What I was unable to see in the dark was the entire right side of my car had been smashed from end to end. Luckily, the damage was mostly aesthetic. My front door now throws a tantrum when being shut, but other than that, Pip is functionally as good as gold! What is definitely the most disturbing is the “what if’s” that so easily could’ve been a reality. I shudder to think of the idea that they could’ve hit me a hell of a lot harder, spelling out a much bigger issue than just the door being finicky: like me getting hurt.
So, in light of my brush with death (it’s my blog, I’m allowed to be melodramatic), I’ve taken another look at several important things:
1) For the next 2 weeks (the duration of my trip), I will be hunting down highly safe areas to park. Well lit, and traffic-free.
2) It doesn’t take a genius to realize that the driver who hit me was drunk; this just reinforces my criticism of those who drink and dive (it only takes one swerve to take out another vehicle, pedestrian, or yourself… if you’re lucky no one gets hurt, or worse.)
3) I am now even more aware of how quickly circumstances can change and am incredibly grateful that I am healthy, happy, and able to still have the world at my fingertips. It only takes an instant for all of that to change. Thinking about that puts a whole new spin on the saying “live for the moment” eh?
Carpe Diem.
-Ashley
Fun Fact: Despite not having any toilet seat covers anywhere in the country (good on ya little green Kiwis, save those trees!) New Zealand has an ingenious way of keeping your tush bacteria and yucky-stuff free: seat cleaners! Just pull the small baby-wipe thing from the wall and viola, clean toilet. Saves on cleaning costs too I bet. Such smart little Kiwis...
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