Slacks of Angels

A few weeks ago Kelsi decided I needed new dress pants.  Apparently the pair I stole from Andrew when I got back from Romania, and the one’s I put a hole in at Jennie’s wedding were “no longer acceptable”.  So being a good husband, I only waited for half a month before biting the bullet.

Truly, I wasn’t procrastinating. I was simply gearing up and mentally preparing. You see, shopping for pants is a daunting prospect.

It’s not that I don’t like new slacks, it’s just that getting new ones demands such high levels of commitment.  According to my calculations I’ll probably wear a typical pair for a period of two to five years.  So they have to be good.  Sturdy, but able to convey extreme business competence.   Bold enough that they could walk on Wall Street, but personal enough for a relaxed lunch.  Breathable in summer, but thick enough to ward off winter winds.

Shopping is a daunting prospect, to be sure.

I started off my brave adventure by missing the store all together.   Who knew I needed the right lane?  Apparently not me (even with the GPS).

So I decided to pull a U turn.  I pulled into the left hand turn lane, but found it didn’t go anywhere.  Just an open pasture with some trees and bushes and stuff (randomly in the city). There was no street to turn left onto, and the road wasn’t even wide enough to make a U turn. 

Why the turning lane?  No idea.  But now I was stuck making a U-turn into oncoming traffic that wasn’t going to stop for a red light, and not enough room to make the turn.  Also, I couldn’t change lanes and go strait because the three lanes to my right were full of impatient drivers trying to get someplace important.

As I weighed my options I saw my chance out.   As luck would have it, there was a shoulder on the side of the road covered in grass.  Deliverance!  My mind quickly did the proper algorithms:

Parameters for safe execution of U-turn including safe traversal of shoulder:

                                1) Distance to oncoming car:  Marginal.

                                2) Speed of said car:  45-50 mph.

                                3) Radius of turn for 1990 Toyota pickup:  Better than most.

                                4) Width of shoulder:  Three to four feet.

                                5) Length of time to leave truck in first gear:  Entire maneuver.

                                6) Time required to properly slow truck and engage tire on soft shoulder:  1.34 seconds.

                                7) Driver’s level of ability to bend traffic laws:  Californian.

                                8) Chance of success:  Extremely good.

I am Sherlock Holmes.

I see a big opening and slam the pedal down.  I come to the shoulder and hit the brakes.  Perfect execution, gentle entry into grassy section, car approaching in rear view mirror still an adequate distance behind the truck.

Only it wasn’t a shoulder with short grass.  It was a ditch with tall grass.

My mind quickly did the proper algorithms, but this time while praying:

                Parameters for safe removal of 1990 Toyota pickup from 4’ ditch:

1) Danger of being rear ended:  Minimal.  DC drivers apparently see this often, and just go around.

2) Chance of larger truck stopping to help:  Low.  Most just go around.

3) Tow truck:  Expensive and time consuming.  No roadside assistance on insurance.

                                4) Damage to vehicle:  Unknown.

5) Number of tires in ditch: One.  Front right.

6) Rear wheel drive:  Operable but not useful.  Wheels no longer in contact with road.

7) Driver’s level of ability getting out of (and hence into) dumb situations:  Experienced.

8) Chance of success with God’s help:  Extremely high.

9) Location of that help:  Unknown.

Now realize, that this all happened very quickly, and that by now Kelsi is sitting patiently while I spin the back tires in reverse.  She looks concerned, but not overly worried.  We haven’t had time to talk or anything when two Latino guys materialize out of the woodwork. 

One was walking by and turned en route.  The other had been riding his bike and hopped off.  Both walked directly into the ditch and grabbed near the tire.

“Ready?”  One says with a thick accent, and he nods to me.

I nod back and the pair lift the front end of the truck out of the ditch.  The back tires hit the road, and we back out of the ditch while cars on the road stop and wait.

We had to pull around the corner because the road was so busy, and there wasn’t anywhere to stop and assess damage.  The guys who helped us stayed on the main road, traveling on as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.  Not returning to business as usual, but continuing business as usual.

The truck’s front was covered in mud, and a plastic grocery bag covered in filth was stuck to the bottom.  The front bumper was bent out of shape, grinding against the right wheel, but it was easy to bend it back in place.  It looked like it would have fallen off if it wasn’t already tied on with a piece of wire.  So all in all no damage whatsoever.  But I felt bad we had not properly thanked the guys.

I’d say the worst part of receiving help is that you can’t pay it back most of the time.  You can only pray for the people that do the helping, and hope the Lord will watch over them.  Then wait for someone less fortunate than yourself to come along, and pray they need something within your limited skill set.

As I looked around Ross for something my size I wondered about the pants our angels were wearing.  I hadn’t gotten a good look at them in the ditch, and didn’t think of it when we saw them after.  Levis? Dockers?  I don’t know, but whatever type, they had to have been covered in something nasty. 

I’m not saying that Wall Street pants are bad pants.  But I am saying that I’ll need pants that don’t drive around the car stuck in the ditch.  Pants inconsequential enough to muddy.  Pants for all seasons and all circumstances. 

Pants of Angels.