Where to Hide a Body and Other Things I Think About While Driving
Just about every time I’m on a longer-than-a few-minute drive and am taking in the landscape, I’m also thinking about where I could hide a body. While passing by a beautiful field, or forest, or drainage ditch, I assess the most discreet spot.
This dark habit has come up recently in conversation and I’ve learned that I don’t know anyone else thinking about this during their idle time. For a few days I felt a bit self-conscious about why I’m innately fixated on this morbid task (Because I’m Sicilian? Was I a hitman in a past life?) but then realized that a part of my brain is always preparing for the worst.
When driving I also regularly inventory the ways to leave town (a boat from the marina at the end of Armington Street, etc.) if there was ever the kind of disaster from which I needed to flee. I also plan the ways I could fortify my house, take note of which neighbors have chickens, where to find potable water, and am particularly fixated on the idea of being able to ride a horse and shoot a gun at the same time.
If I’m not thinking about catastrophic world disasters, I tend to imagine situations where I have to physically fight for my life. I rarely walk into a room without looking for multiple exits and inventorying the people in the space. From time to time, I even leave a space as soon as I walk in if I feel like I might get trapped. Does that seem crazy? I walked into a little pizza shop at lunch time a few months back and the to-go counter was crowded with large, male construction workers. There was only one exit unless I passed by all of them to go out through the kitchen, so I turned around and left.
While I don’t have one packed and at the ready, I think about what I’d have in my bug out bag for survival as well as for entertainment. If I need to run away, I’ll likely have the kids with me too. About half way through my last drive between Buffalo and Providence, where the NYS Thruway is particularly mundane, I found I was mentally timing myself for packing up our backpacks with everything from food and water and utility tools to decks of cards. I pictured myself hurriedly moving through our apartment and gathering up provisions. I think I’d need less than ten minutes.
In some ways this mental preparation feels smart. One of my friends recently pointed out that Oprah suggests imagining how you’d survive getting attacked. If you can imagine it, you’re more likely to have a successful outcome. Maybe that’s what I’m doing.
I’ve survived things that I assumed would break me. Many of them did temporarily. But I am here and imagining all the ways I’ll continue surviving.
