Acceptable Risk

My heart rate is climbing. A bead of sweat is forming on my brow. My muscles are tense as I clutch tightly on the wheel. I am travelling at the speed limit as I watch cars whiz by in the passing lane. Normally I would be right there with them. Not today. I am having second thoughts about doing this. Yet I drive on. I am gazing at a black SUV as it passes by. A large mongrel dog has his head out the rear right window. He is looking intently straight ahead into the 60 mph or so headwind. His ears are flappy in the breeze.

Maybe I would achieve the Zen-like state that dog is in if I also stuck my head out the window. For a moment I consider a quick try. I would like to experience the pleasure that dog feels. But, it would be a bit unsafe for me to unbuckle and half stand in the car, then lean out the window while holding the wheel with my right hand. That would be an unacceptable risk. So I just go on.

A siren gets louder and in a few seconds I spot an ambulance rushing closer. Of course, I pull over to give the ambulance ample room. I wonder who is in there. Is it an old guy like me who fell off a ladder trying to clean the gutters? Is it a teenager with a steering wheel stuck in his chest after he tried to text and drive? Is it a husband with five gun-shot wounds inflicted by his spouse as she finally snapped after putting down the toilet seat for the 5,100,001 time? I’m guessing someone took an unacceptable risk and will pay for it. OK, I have to clear my mind of these negative thoughts and press on.

I remind myself that I have been brave in the past. I have taken a number of acceptable risks. I have played a piano in front of 50 people at a recital, submitted a project for judgement at a science fair, rode my bike down a steep hill with no hands, captured several frogs bare-handed, tried out for the college chorus group, asked several cute girls out on a date, applied to graduate school and later ran for city council. These were all acceptable risks in my opinion. I also have held a shark in the wild on a scuba dive, hiked a scary cliff on the north shore of Kauai, flown in a glider plane, done stall dives in a bi-plane and ordered a glass of water in a biker bar. All true. Except for the biker bar- it was a diet soda. OK, these were on the line between acceptable and unacceptable risks.

Is what I am about to do on that line between acceptable and unacceptable risk? I can see some possible longer term gain, balanced against the risk of humiliation and mocking. I tell myself, “You’re tough. You can do this”. I put on my right turn signal as I approach the challenge. The turn signal seems to be clicking much louder than usual. Maybe that’s a sign. Maybe I should turn back and do this another day. No. I press on.

In the parking lot, I find a spot far from the door with no cars nearby. I take my time walking slowly towards the door. I glance at my watch pretending to be a busy guy with responsibilities. Everyone is looking at me. They sense my fear like most animals. With short, slow steps I reach the door. It automatically opens, daring me to enter. I reach into my pocket and withdraw it. It looks and feels foreign. I feel like a toddler trying to get on a bike. Which side of it should be on the face? Is it tight around my nose and mouth? What if it pulls off my expensive hearing aid? The elastic is trying to pull off my ear. I can hear my breathing. My glasses are fogging up. Nothing feels right. I think of that dog in the SUV racing forward into the future with full confidence. I stare straight ahead knowing that I probably look foolish, dumb or even worse- like some radical liberal. For some reason I reach up to check my ears. They aren’t flapping.

As I walk down the first aisle my heart rate slows a bit since I am alone. Maybe I can do this. Then panic strikes. I left my shopping list at home. The entire mission has failed. Now I must flee this place without anything. I abandon ship. My cart with the last pack of toilet paper in it stands as testimony to my incompetence. As I approach the door with nothing to show for my brave excursion into the store, a woman meets me at the exit, backing up for social distancing. She stares into my eyes. She shakes her head slightly in pity for me. This whole mask thing has been a disaster. Empty handed I leave with head down in defeat. This did not turn out to be an acceptable risk. Home delivery is the only acceptable risk.