in which we discuss the dangers of driving at sunset

When I took the driving test to get my license, I only made one mistake. But it was a bad mistake. According to the lady who kept track of my score, it was the worst mistake listed on her sheet (except, probably, for mowing down pedestrians or attempting to outrun a cop). Going through an unmarked intersection, you see, I apparently breezed right through, looking neither to the right nor to the left, and putting myself and my passenger in grave danger of being broadsided by any number of phantom cars that might or might not have been there. Subtract eight points from the final tally. Actually, I retain the private opinion that I did look both ways before crossing the street; only that my head didn't move, and due to the fact that I was wearing sunglasses, my instructor failed to note the silent rotation of my eyeballs in their sockets. I did not, however, press charges at the time, seeing that I received a passing grade even with the deduction. It was also comforting that, apart from my instructor, my mother, and myself, no-one ever need know about the incident, thus keeping my driver-ly reputation, for now, at a decent level of mediocre. Unless, of course, some loony-bird were to take it into her head to include it as an anecdote in a blog post intended to be broadcast all across the universe by way of the internet. But what kind of nut would do something like that?

It struck me the other day what a tragically hilarious irony it would be if that was how I died: if, in a carbon-copy repeat of that one mistake on that first day, I was flying blissfully through an unmarked intersection on my way to a Bingo re-match at the senior center, heedless of danger and daydreaming happily of brownies and decaf coffee, only to be skewered at the last by a panic-stricken semi. Actually, it would probably be the semi's driver that would be panic-stricken. I doubt if the truck itself would care that much.

I seem just as likely, if not more so, to die in a head-on collision with oncoming traffic (what other kind of traffic, might I ask, does one get into head-on collisions with?), due to an irresistible compulsion to gaze, enraptured, at the sunset or a passing pelican, instead of at the road. Roads don't stand up to a whole lot of enraptured gazing, and I tire of them rather quickly. Sunsets, on the other hand...ah, me. Oh, and pelicans. Pelicans are nice, too. So are wallabies, for that matter. But I digress.

I was headed east on a rather lonely blacktop this evening, and I could see rain on the horizon. A greyish haze smothered most of the visibly sky, but there was a certain amount of sunshine filtering thoughtfully through from the west. It was neither gloomy nor cheerful. I didn't even really notice that it was anything at all, until later. I came to a stop sign, and signaled a left turn. There was a blue minivan coming up on my right, so I waited for them to pass. (See, I do sometimes look both ways at intersections.) I happened to glance to my left as I rounded the corner, and I saw the sky.

It wasn't quite sunset yet, but it was glorious. I groped, even then, for words that might translate a little bit of this glory to the page; but the endeavor was vain. Imagine a clear, blue patch of sky on the western horizon of an otherwise overcast sky. Imagine a single column of mounting, gilt-edged cloud in the center, and hard-edged rays of sunlight spilling out into the corn fields below. Imagine that, only a hundred times better and more brilliant. Do you think you could keep your eyes off it? I couldn't.

The glory surprised me. The rest of the sky was so nondescript this evening; who would have anticipated such brilliance in that one corner? There's something incredible about finding beauty where you didn't expect it. A dandelion wriggles its way up through a crack in the sidewalk. A boring acquaintance turns out, in fact, to be quite witty and charming once you get to know her. A really lovely song sets in the middle of an otherwise forgettable CD. A hand-written letter arrives from a far-away friend. A gorgeous sunset crowns the end of a cloudy day.

I glanced back at the road just in time to avoid hitting a large pickup truck coming over the brow of a hill. They should never have given me my license.