Friday the 13th

You know it's going to be an interesting Friday the 13th when the first thing you see in the morning is cat puke on the carpet! Or I could say, my day can only get better, right?

Carter asked me why people are superstitious about Friday the 13th. To be honest, I didn't know. I could have pulled a LeRoy and made something up but instead I Googled it. Now I know why I didn't know.

There is no valid reason in history for a Friday the 13th to be bad luck -- it's just a mix of religious sorts thinking Fridays are bad luck since Christ died that day -- and 13 is unlucky because that's how many were at the Last Supper.

Doesn't seem to apply to modern-day concerns. For me, July 13th has proven to be an unlucky day -- though it was a Tuesday back in 1993 when it happened. That was the day I was hit by a car.

It started out as a normal day in Menominee, Mich. I was a reporter for the Menominee Herald-Leader at the time. Our newspaper deadlined around noon so the typical routine was that after we were done, Cindy and I would sit out on the park bench in front of our office building, where she'd have a smoke and I'd look across the park at the boats on Green Bay or watch the cars go by.

It wasn't uncommon for people to honk or pretend to swerve when they went by, then wave and yell "hello." Cindy knew everyone.

Something was different this day. A car had pulled up to the corner to our right. When it turned left it looked like it was still turning toward us. It took a split second to realize this person wasn't joking around and swerving. This car was coming head on.

Cindy and I stood up in unison and I sort of pushed her to the left. The next thing I know, I am on the ground and the car had taken me -- and the park bench -- out. Our building had huge, huge windows, but thankfully I was thrown into the brick wall between them or I would have gone through. That would have been a mess. The way it was -- I was knocked out of my shoes and my earrings (I always thought that was weird.)

The other weird thing, a miracle really, is that I didn't break any bones. I had a deep-tissue injury to my shoulder so I had to wear a sling for a few weeks. My backside and side were totally black and blue and purple. It was tough getting around awhile (a little bit worse than the day after a kickball tournament).

Later, reading the police report, I discovered the 17-year-old driver had a suspended license and the reason he kept turning was that he was looking in his backseat to be sure his bucket of minnows hadn't spilled. When he faced front and saw he was heading for us, he panicked and hit the gas instead of the brakes.

He had no insurance and neither did his parents. I tried suing for medical expenses but after I moved away, my 44-year-old lawyer died of a heart attack and we never got the case anywhere. Talk about bad luck!

Yes, 13 can be unlucky. I have been forced to make an honest living and go to a monthly back-crackin' appointment. I guess the lucky one is my chiropractor. He sure drives a nice vehicle, thanks to me!