The Bull and the Bullshit

Half of this story is true. The other I made up. I’ll let you guess which is which.

When I was in my teens, we lived in a house on a hill that sloped down sideways. At the back, a farmer’s land abutted ours. At the time, he had cows as well as fowl, and he would sometimes bring us eggs and fresh milk. Those were some good times.

A few years after we moved in, my father told me, “You better stay inside,” and left the house in his pickup truck.

Not having any plans, I obeyed, only a little curious, and went back to my book.

A few hours later, he returned.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“The bull,” he answered, “it got out and was running down the road.”

In disbelief, I goggled at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, really. It broke through the electric fence, went through our yard, and made its way to the asphalt. Farmer Herb called asking for help to get the fence back up and herd it back before it could cause any damage.”

“So what was the truck for?” I asked.

“To herd the bull back, of course. What? Did you think we would be able to just push it back?”

I hadn’t thought of that.

Why tell this story though? How many of us are like the bull, disregarding fences real or imagined, without regard to the reasons for those fences or the consequences of breaking through them? The bull didn’t realize that it could hurt someone or that it could be hurt if it got out of the pasture, and many times, people didn’t realize the trouble or hurt they cause others with their disregard for seemingly arbitrary rules, restrictions, or even just strong cultural taboos that others are not yet ready to question.

I know I’m no exception, and here’s just one example of that.

Around the time I was learning to drive, I thought that speed limits were stupid. I would get ticket after ticket, fine after fine, and still would not slow down.

One day, I was speeding to work, and a large truck came over into my lane. I swerved; I stomped on the brakes; I honked my horn, all to no avail. The truck kept coming, and fast. I later learned that the driver had no choice; there was another truck in front of him, and he could not slow down fast enough in time to stay behind that other truck.

Before I could do anything else, I was slammed against the guardrail, and everything went black.

When I woke up, it was to excruciating pain, a ringing in my ears, and a dreadful sense of wrongness. I could not see; my head was covered somehow, but I could sense that I was in a hospital.

When I reached up to uncover it, something prevented me. It was like my arm had hit a barrier; I could not lift it more than about six inches from my side. But the cover was over my arms too, so I carefully contorted my hand enough to grasp the cover and, inch by tiny inch, I pulled that thing off.

I still couldn’t see.

Desperately, I tried to reach my face, but every time I lifted a hand, a hollow bang almost like a gong sounded through the place I was rapidly coming to see as my prison.

I don’t know how long it was until I began to run out of breath, but not long after, I heard a loud crash and felt a sliding sensation as the morgue locker was opened and slid out, blinding me in another way.

As I regained my sight, I saw my hysterical parents looking at me.

They were upside down.

I couldn’t help it; I laughed. It was just so absurd to see them that way.

And then I saw their faces. They were horrified. My mother screamed. My father clutched his chest. My sister gasped, and my brother cursed.

Needless to say, they were all very surprised to see me awake.

No, that is an understatement. They were surprised to see me alive.

It took a while, but eventually, I got the full story about the crash, the injuries I suffered, and how they thought I’d died on the table. The doctors think I must have been in a coma so profound that the instruments couldn’t detect it. Is that what it really was? I don’t know. I’m no doctor.

Have I learned my lesson though? For the most part, I think so. I don’t speed down the road at all hours of the day and night now, but I still have my moments.

I definitely don’t go 125 miles an hour on any road anymore though.