Every once in a while I get reminders of how much my
drinking habits have changed:
It's nothing to be proud
of, but for most of my life I wouldn't be without an open can of Bud between my
legs while I was driving. When I was in
the required 'treatment program' after getting my DUI a few years ago, I
learned an interesting factoid.
Apparently, the statistics show… on average… when you are behind the
wheel after having had any amount of alcohol… something bad will happen one out
of 300 times. That may seem like pretty
good odds, but check this out…
… After doing a very
honest and conservative estimate, I came up the fact that I had been behind the
wheel over 7,000 times without ONE incident.
I started to raise my hand in class, as my first instinct was to brag about how
good I was at breaking the law, but then it hit me… I should be grateful that I was so lucky, not proud of it.
That was the first
moment I can ever remember thinking that I was gonna stop making drinking and
driving such a routine part of my life. The fact is, I've been a changed man since
that moment. I used to drink an average
of at least 12 beers a day. I'd usually
start around 9am, and drink a six-pack during the day, then polish off the rest
of the 12-pack that evening. And if it wasn't a 12-pack, it was a fifth of vodka!
Since my DUI, I think
my average intake is more like two per day.
(Editors note: now the average is closer to one, or perhaps even 3-4 per week!). Sometimes I feel boring (and/ or bored) with
the difference in my thought process and behavior, but most of the time I feel
good about myself. I also started going to
the gym on a regular basis.
The upcoming ½ century
mark of my life had put a different attitude in place for me. I realized that I was obviously going to live
longer than I had predicted, and that if I didn't start taking better care of myself,
the last part of my life was gonna be hard on me. I still thank the 'gods' for allowing me to
'beg' for my DUI. Besides the financial
and embarrassment factors, it was one of the best things that ever happened to
me. Here's the way it played out:
It was five years ago
(October of '03), when I was going home from an afternoon at a Renaissance
Faire, and I had had about seven or eight dark beers… grog, they called
it. My body had gotten very proficient
at processing the alcohol I put in it, and I considered my selves to be
professionals, and felt proud of the way we could drink. Anyway… when the cop pulled me over and wrote
me a ticket for an unsafe pass, I could have gotten on my bike and rode
away. He 'tried' to 'only' give me a
speeding ticket, but I decided foolishly to make him a counter-offer. This is where my life made a dramatic change…
Instead of thanking my
lucky stars for once again, 'getting away with it'… I got back off the bike and
walked up to the cop. This is how cocky
I had become about my drinking and driving.
I knew I was most likely over the limit, but I had gotten to the point
where I thought I was invincible. In a
very polite and respectful voice, I told the cop that he might want to consider
attending my court appearance, as I was planning on trying to convince the
judge that the pass I had made was not an unsafe maneuver.
I recall the cop
simply shrugging his shoulders, but still… I couldn't let it go. I began to explain to the cop what my
argument was gonna be (how freaking stupid could I be?) This is how 'necessary' it was for me to get
some help with my drinking. I told the
cop that passing the two cars at once was MUCH safer than passing one car and
then trying to squeeze my bike in between them… and then pass the second car.
After I had finally
finished my polite and respectful tirade, the cop looked at me sadly, and said,
"Oh… I didn't smell the beer on your breath before… please step over here." I know I passed all his physical tests, but then he
said there was one last test to take.
I blew into the little
mouthpiece and he showed me what the machine indicated. It showed 0.108, and my first thought was; wow…
all those beers and ONLY a 108… that's pretty good!
It wasn't until the
handcuffs started to really hurt, sitting in the back of his car, about ½ way
to the Santa Cruz Jail, that I started thinking that I had made a mistake. Not about drinking and driving. That realization wouldn't happen for several
weeks later at the treatment program. I
was mad at myself for the mistake of not riding away from the scene of the
crime, happy to only have gotten an unsafe pass ticket.
My cockiness about my
supreme ability to drink and drive safely was astounding. It's embarrassing to admit how deluded I was
at the time, but at least I was able to learn my lesson before anyone got hurt.
As I filled up Honey's tank, I was grateful that Ludlow had
reminded me that one out of seven thousand was a statistic that I should
consider a miracle, and not a badge to be proud of.
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