Subaru in a Snowbank

Headline: Safety belts save lives, y’all — for realz!

Car safety. Meh, right? I’ve listened to thousands of car commercials where the vehicle safety ratings get touted like so much accomplishment and I’m like, “But is it a cute car?” Having been now, in a car tossed off the side of a mountain and caught in a random stand of trees, I beckon to bring on those safety numbers. Rolling in a Subaru down a snow bank and getting out without a scratch is a baller move.

I was probably not giving the task my 100% focus. Driving through the mountains during a blizzard requires all your mother flocking attention. Your music selection, the chapter of that audiobook, who just sent you a text, or that Grindr booty call finally getting back to you, mean nothing when your life depends on eyes on the road, the speedometer and conditions. I already know I’m not the best driver (I’m terrible). I knew when suddenly found myself I alone on the road, I needed to more carefully monitor my speed. It’s so easy to get a heavy foot and be flying along at 95 MPH.

My confused dog looked up at me from a cracked passenger-side window that pressed into fresh snow, while I reached above me for a door release that shouldn’t have been that impossible to locate. It was oddly mundane. A person walked towards me through brush and slim trees, looking panicked. I can see their whole body through the sideways windshield. They approached like they expected the worst. “Are you okay?” Would be the first words out of every mouth speaking for the rest of the day. I prepared to be called “Sir” and “he” and that seemed so much worse as the person speaking would be trying to help.

I informed the officer at the scene that I was a woman, regardless of what my driver’s license says. I prepped for the confused look, exasperation and general disapproval. The officer was affirming and it was cool to see them fill out the report with “she” in reference to the “driver” who was me. My tits were hurting the most. They are in a weird stage where they are always hard and always sore and I just want to pull them out and give them a massage, which would settle the gender question. Giving oneself a nipple massage in the waiting room of the state trooper station seemed like a poor choice.

I’m fine. I’m beyond fine. I’m enthusiastic that I am a resilient being, who can go through a traumatic situation, acknowledge it as happening, and take action to mitigate it. I also realize my resilience is the result of a lifetime of trauma that I’ve had to face and work through and name and embrace. It took a lot of emotional car wrecks, to prepare me for that real one. My thinking shifted from, “Oh shit, I’m gonna crash!” to “Okay, made it through that part! Whew!” I am unflappable. Embracing the disaster, it becomes just another experience—neutral and passing.

Thanks for all the concern, everyone. Mother (this goddess) and baby (my dog, Jack) are well.

—Notorious Pink