On the Way Last Saturday Evening

Just like every other time I go out at night, I was running late. I needed to get money from the ATM, pop in a store, and get on with the evening's festivities. My social circle had planned the first warm-weather bar-be-cue of the Spring, and I was ready.

The sun had drifted to set in the west, as I grabbed my purse and phone and hopped into my truck in the fading light. I just needed to run through the ATM, grab some munchies and beer, and I'd be spending a relaxing evening in the company of friends.

My week had piled enough worries into my brain that anxiety was supervising my behavior. I was more than physically worn out, I was mentally beat too. A night of laughs and music with friends would help break the tension that life had dropped on me.

I wasn't looking for a fight. I just wanted to get where I was going and unwind. Because I'm bipolar, I guard my emotions when I'm tired like this. A little thing can turn into a big thing--and quickly. It's info I keep in the back of my mind, just in case some environmental situation should need me to bring it to the front, and act on it,

I wasn't expecting any problems. Traffic was light as I turned into the bank's parking lot, just past the MacDonald's. Driving around to the back of the building, I was preforming my pre-ATM rituals: Lower the driver's window, pull in the driver's side rear view mirror, and pull my check card out of my wallet--ready for poking into the ATM.

It costs a lot of money to replace those damn side mirrors on my truck, They stick out farther than you think. The first time I knocked one off I was driving through a residential neighborhood with cars parked on both sides of the street. I heard the "thwack," but didn't realize what had happened until next daylight. Another truck had his mirrors extended, and our rear views collided. The second time, my truck was parked in front of the house, with both mirrors fully extended. Somebody got my rear view mirror during the night. I known that repair is in the range of $300-$500. Now I've learned to retract the mirror if anything night happen to be in their way. The drive-thru bank lane that housed the ATM was narrow, and well protected by concrete structures.

I drove into my lane, only to find a boy of 14 or so, standing at the ATM. Drive throughs are never walk throughs. If you want to use the bank's ATM, you need a vehicle and your business. This also seems to be the general rule for food drive-thrus. That's why it's called a drive-thru.

I was miffed at the delay, but gave the kid a good five minutes to complete his business at the ATM before I got out of the truck to talk to him.