The Stig: Adventures In Jaywalking
Part of going carless is figuring out how to get all my Diet Cokes and other groceries from Publix the two blocks uphill to my condo. It’s too much stuff to carry, so I broke down and bought one of those carts you see city-dwellers use to transport their stuff. Now some of my “friends” thought this was just TOO embarrassing. So I’ve named my cart “The Stig” – short for “Stigma.” “The Stig” is probably better known as the anonymous test driver on the BBC’s show “Top Gear.” (I’ve only watched the episode with David Tennant.) But for my purposes, I’m claiming the name.
I don’t really feel any embarrassment using the cart. It’s just a tool. But I also have no shame about making a spectacle of myself. And you’ll agree that’s a good thing when you hear how this initial grocery run turned out.
I rolled The Stig down to the store still folded up. When you roll something, you quickly come to understand accessibility issues: curb cuts, broken sidewalks, ramps. But I got down the hill with no problems. I needed to run in the Walgreens for one little thing, and didn’t really want to haul the buggy in with me. I knew the security guard that was outside, so I left my folded cart with him on the bike rack while I ran inside.
And then it was on to Publix for the real test. I had to change up my pattern through the store, because I knew the 18 Diet Cokes had to go on the bottom. It would be nice if The Stig’s liner had separate sections where you could isolate items from one another, but as long as I think in advance about what order things need to go in the cart, I don’t think I’ll have too many problems with the frozen turkey winding up on top of the lightbulbs.
It was also a little hard to maneuver because the front and rear wheel of The Stig are fixed, so if you have to turn a corner, you have to basically pop a wheelie and get the front wheels off the ground. And the handle is a little too low for me. I have to push from around the middle of my thighs. I would have a little more control if the handle came up closer to my hip bones.
But other than that, it worked out well. There was plenty of room left in the cart when I was done shopping. The little boy bagging my groceries was smart enough to know the cokes go on the bottom. And I was feeling pretty proud of myself for getting close to checking off another box on the “I’m a bad-ass city-dweller, hear me roar” list.
I got ready to push my groceries the two blocks up the hill home and was amusing myself by thinking about how I was in training to be a pusher in new uphill bobsled Olympic competition I had just invented. I crossed Piedmont at the light and as I went up the sidewalk I noticed that the traffic was stopped at both blocks I was between, Piedmont and Juniper. “Oooh,” I thought to myself! “If I hurry I can cross to the other side of North Avenue right here while the lights are red.” So I ran out into the middle of North Avenue. And The Stig started to sway.
Have you ever seen anybody driving down the road pulling a trailer without the stability stuff hooked up. The trailer starts swaying from side to side, and eventually it can turn the car right over. Um. Yeah.
Right in the middle of North Avenue, I feel the cart starting to get away from me. And I feel myself losing my balance. And the next thing I know, I’m laying in the middle of North Avenue with my overturned crazy old lady shopping cart. I am absolutely mortified by embarrassment, but worse, I know the lights are about to change and I’m about to be run over. What a way to go. Bless her heart. We tried to tell her.
I assume everyone there in their warm, comfortable cars were calling 911 to report the drunk bag lady who’d passed out in the middle of the street. Meanwhile, I’m peeling my 45-year-old ass off the asphalt as quickly as I can, righting my grocery cart, high-tailing it for the sidewalk and thanking Jesus for those kind drivers who changed lanes so they didn’t run over me.
I stood on the sidewalk for a minute to assess the situation. Nothing fell out of The Stig. Nothing fell out of my purse. The Stig was still OK. I didn’t break my sunglasses or lose my Braves cap. I didn’t tear a hole in the knee of my jeans. I just skinned my knuckles trying to hang onto the cart when I fell.
I proceeded slowly the rest of the way home, cussing every pothole and crack in the sidewalk. Bashing my shins on the cart every time I hit either. And grumbling, I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT! WHAT WAS I THINKING???
But next time will be better. I will go more slowly and deliberately. The job WAS accomplished. Another lesson learned in living without a car.
And I realized it could’ve actually been worse. The Stig could’ve NOT fallen over in the middle of the street with me. I could’ve had to jump up out of the road and then chase my groceries down the street as they tried to make their escape. *cue Benny Hill music*