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    Get on the Bus!: Because You Can’T Drive
    Get on the Bus!: Because You Can’T Drive
    Get on the Bus!: Because You Can’T Drive
    Ebook149 pages1 hour

    Get on the Bus!: Because You Can’T Drive

    By D. K. Mullarky

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    About this ebook

    In the moment before impact, D.K. Mullarky looked out the drivers side window of his tiny sports car and saw the right front headlight of an out of control SUV, mere inches away. The initial impact drove Mullarkys car down an embankment, where it slammed into a stand of trees. The collisions aftermath left Mullarky with a totaled vehicle and a broken body. Happy to be a survivor, Mullarky relies on his experience behind the wheel as a driverand a victimas he shares his humorous and informative guide on how to prevent idiots on the road from making other drivers a statistic.

    With thousands of Americans losing their lives in preventable, non-alcohol related collisions and crashes every year, one cannot help wonder why drivers are still operating their vehicles while being distracted by drinks, food, conversations, and, worse yet, cell phones. With a wry sense of humor, Mullarky wonders why drivers

    act like their signals are made of acid, ready to melt their fingers if they use them;

    tempt fate and speed on the road;

    drift into other lanes;

    ogle crashes and traffic collisions; and

    refuse to yield the right-of-way to emergency vehicles.

    Get on the Bus shares practical advice that can encourage anyone to revisit their own driving habits while it reminds that being self-focused on the road is a disaster just waiting to happen.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateAug 27, 2012
    ISBN9781475941043
    Get on the Bus!: Because You Can’T Drive
    Author

    D. K. Mullarky

    D. K . MULLARKY graduated from Saint Michael’s College in Colchester, Vermont with a Bachelor of Science in Accounting. Each week he writes an opinion/editorial about current events on his blog, www.fullofmullarky.com. He shares his central Vermont home with a cat, a Rottweiler and a Harley Davidson.

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      Book preview

      Get on the Bus! - D. K. Mullarky

      Copyright © 2011-2012 D. K. Mullarky.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

      iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

      iUniverse

      1663 Liberty Drive

      Bloomington, IN 47403

      www.iuniverse.com

      1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-4103-6 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-4105-0 (hc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-4104-3 (e)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2012913779

      iUniverse rev. date: 8/17/2012

      Contents

      1. Start Your Engines!

      2. One Good Turn (Deserves a Signal)!

      3. To Speed or Not to Speed

      4. What Else Can I Do Now?

      5. What Does This Button Do?

      6. Your Lane or Mine?

      7. Lane of Confusion

      8. Are You Making a Pass at Me?

      9. Distance Yourself!

      10. Baby on Board, Butthead at Wheel!

      11. Got a License but No Clue!

      12. Eat and Run?

      13. Restrain Yourself!

      14. Don’t Belt Me In!

      15. False Sense of Security

      16. Pedaling Danger

      17. None Too Bright!

      18. What’s Your Sign?

      19. This Is My Exit!

      20. Whoa! Back Up!

      21. Hey! Look at That!

      22. A Shoulder to Drive On?

      23. Loaded for Danger!

      24. Lead, Follow, or Get Out of the Way!

      25. We Don’t Heed No Stinkin’ Limits!

      26. Meet Me Halfway

      27. Gridlocked!

      28. Sticker Shocked!

      29. What if Your House Was on Fire?

      30. Is That Brain Bucket Too Tight?

      31. Do as I Say, Not as I Do!

      32. This Is the End

      33. Just the Facts

      Literature Cited

      Dedicated to

      Mom and Dad

      Isis

      Saranac Lake, NY, EMS

      and

      the staff of Adirondack Medical Center

      Without just one of the above, I wouldn’t be here …

      and neither would this book.

      1

      Start Your Engines!

      Are you a good driver? Most will answer yes to that question. Everyone would rather be known as a good driver than a bad driver. As a rule, humankind doesn’t like being told, You’re not doing that right. But when it comes to driving, a tiny bit of humility, the ability to admit you may not be as good a driver as you want to believe, may save someone’s life.

      I know what you’re thinking: Who is this guy to give advice or instruction on driving? Why should I care about anything he says? Is he a driver’s education teacher, a cop, a race-car driver, or a professional hauler? Heck, is he even a teacher? Well, I’m none of those things. The truth is, I’ve been given so many labels by so many people over the years that I’ve lost track. However, the label I wear proudly, which I hope will give you pause to consider what I’ve written, is survivor.

      In early December of 2003, I had this great little car: a 2001 Hyundai Tiburon. A two-door, five-speed, with electric everything, and what my wife and I called a two-grocery-bag backseat. It was a great value for the price, and, most important, it was super fun to drive. My wife told me, Okay. You can buy it. But, first ticket you get, I’m driving it! Like I said, fun to drive.

      On the sixth of the month, that little car and I had to part ways, and, unfortunately, it wasn’t painless for either of us. As I neared a bend in the road, a Nissan Pathfinder came around the bend with its rear end in my lane. In a split second, the driver of the Pathfinder overcorrected, and the vehicle spun toward me, out of control. As soon as the grille was pointed directly at me, the vehicle somehow found purchase on the slick road and leapt at me. It hit my driver’s door at about 60 mph.

      In the instant before impact, as I was staring at the right headlight of the Pathfinder just outside my driver’s side window, I thought, Aw, crap, or a word very similar in length and meaning.

      BANG!

      The initial impact drove my car off the road, down an embankment, and into a stand of trees.

      Lesser BANG!

      The car came to a fairly sudden stop when it hit the trees at the bottom of the hill. I was slammed forward into the steering wheel. Unfortunately, enough time had passed between the impacts, so the airbags had already deflated. After my face rebounded from the steering wheel, I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and asked aloud, Did that really just happen? I then spit a mouthful of blood onto the passenger seat and replied to my own question, I guess so … I’m gonna have to clean that up. I looked around the car and finished my mini-dialogue with, "I’ll never have to touch this car again."

      The car was a wreck (pun fully intended). The car was so badly mangled that two weeks after the wreck, when the insurance adjustor first saw it, he assumed I was dead. His first words to my wife over the phone were an apology for bothering you at this time of loss. I was lying a few feet away in a hospital bed—in our living room.

      After a thorough inspection of the interior of the car, and deciding that it was a goner, I started wondering whether I was going to follow suit. I knew I was injured, but I didn’t feel all that bad—considering. My only complaint at that point (other than the fact that my car had been destroyed) was that my mouth kept filling up with blood. When I looked in the mirror, I could see why. So much for all the money my mom had spent on my childhood braces. Sorry, Mom.

      The paramedics arrived. Upon seeing my car, they were stunned to learn I was not only alive but awake and coherent. A short conference later, they extricated me from the remains of my ride. As the doors of the ambulance closed, the EMT in back with me leaned over and told me I was going to be okay.

      I reached up to remove the oxygen mask and replied, I know, and replaced the mask. Then, I promptly passed out.

      A string of questions were my next conscious memories: What the hell did I do last night? Why do my teeth feel funny? Why does my head hurt so much? And, most importantly, why is it so damn bright in here? I thought them before I even opened my eyes. When I finally saw the laden IV tree above me, I remembered the wreck and realized it had been worse than I’d thought.

      Because the driver’s door had been folded in on me, I had suffered a half dozen broken ribs on my left side, a shattered left hip, a collapsed left lung, and a ruptured spleen, which was removed. My ruptured diaphragm required two surgeries, one then and one eighteen months later; it is now about a third Gortex. During the secondary impact of hitting the trees, seven teeth were broken when I bit through my lip into the steering wheel. Again, Mom, I’m sorry.

      To the amazement of many, including my doctors, ten days after being admitted to the Adirondack Medical Center in Saranac Lake, New York, I was heading home.

      I would still spend two more months sleeping in a hospital bed in our living room while I rehabbed, but I was out of the hospital—the hospital in which the person who hit me spent no time.

      Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad the other driver was not seriously injured, or worse. In a perverse way, I’m glad that my injuries were the worst suffered. As my mother would be happy to tell you, I almost made a career of being injured as a kid, so I can take it. That being said, I do wish the whole thing had

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