Okay, so he wasn’t really an axe murderer, but I didn’t know that at the time. All I knew was that I didn’t trust the guy. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.

It started when I agreed to go to a friend’s cabin – a place that I have never visited. The cabin was a 6 hour drive away from home. Now, if I were a kid again, this 6 hour drive would mean endless fun by playing “Corners” in the back seat with my brother. (“Corners” is the game where you squish the other person every time the car takes a sharp turn/corner.) But now that I am older, the drive meant 6 hours of being uncomfortable, and enough time for things to go wrong. Because of those reasons, I wasn’t looking forward to this drive, but I hopped into the car anyways thinking that this could be worth blogging.

I was the fifth person to be crammed into the midsized sedan, and was lucky enough to get a window seat; however, that meant that I had to share my personal bubble with someone I barely knew. To make things worse, that person was violently head bobbing from falling in and out of consciousness. My face was plastered to the window, trying to avoid getting a black eye, when suddenly, “tat, tat, tat.” The car started to make unusual sounds, and was shaking. It would have felt great, almost like a massage, if I wasn’t grasping the car door with white knuckles. We pulled over and discovered the problem.

Our shredded tire.

The tire didn’t just go flat; it was freakin’ ripped apart! There were pieces of the tire left on the road! That meant that my worst fear came true: we were stranded in the middle of nowhere. So, we called AAA and requested for a tow truck to come pick us up. The only problem was that the tow truck was an hour and a half away. So, we sat waiting in the car, watching the sunset.

The beautiful sunset in the middle of nowhere.

The sun finally went down, so of course, that’s the time that people decided to try to help. Really?! The only person I know who helps people at night is Batman, and we all know that he’s too busy saving Gotham from its own peril. So who were all of these other people? I came to the only conclusion that was possible: they were all axe murderers.

Our first questionable “good Samaritan” was a foreign tow truck driver. At first glance, we thought that he might be from AAA, but something wasn’t quite right about how friendly he was acting. He was a bit too friendly, if you catch my drift. Yep, I could sense it; he was definitely an axe murderer. Why else would he suggest towing us for free? He just wanted to transport us back to a location that was convenient for his killing. Not being fooled, I cautiously took a step back every time he took a step forward. He finally caught on that we wouldn’t fall for his trap, and left us alone. Below is a self drawn picture of what would have happened if we went with the guy.

Our untimely death – Courteous of the Axe Murderer

Another axe murderer stranger pulled over to “help” us. I’m usually good about not judging people, but when a guy with no shirt, or shoes, pulls over and starts running toward you with a crazed face, you have the instinct to lock the doors and to roll up the windows. So that’s what I did (don’t lie to yourself. You would have done the same thing.). At this point, I just wanted our AAA guy to save us. And he did. An hour later.

Josh, our AAA tow truck driver. Thanks Josh!

By the time we got to the car repair shop and picked up our rental car, I was beat. It was a big day for me after all. I was stranded, was almost killed by, not one, but two potential axe murders, and spent 3 hours with a complete stranger (granted, our driver was very nice and pleasant to talk to). In all honesty, it was too much excitement for my comfort, but I survived and was able to write about it.

I have a secret. I hate writing. I’ve never liked it. In fact, I try to avoid it. I don’t remember when my hatred began, and I don’t even remember what made me so averse to it. I DO, however, remember a moment in high school when my English teacher pulled me aside after class and asked me (in all seriousness), “Is English your second language?” WTF? Was my writing THAT bad? So bad, in fact, that she recommended I stay after school for several weeks to do one-on-one teaching? My confidence for writing was never the same.

So then, you ask, “Why in the world would you start a blog?” And in response, I say, “Isn’t it obvious?” This blog is about “stepping beyond the comfort zone.” Therefore, I’m diving head first into my zone of absolute discomfort by maintaining this blog.

The idea of my own blog started with me on the couch while my fiancée labored over his computer, running his own business. That’s when he so graciously compared my laziness with his productivity. I thought that’s why we were together – because opposites attract. Right? That excuse obviously didn’t suit him well because now I’m here, on my blog, writing this post.

At first, I didn’t know what I would write. I live a dull life where my idea of a fun night is watching prime time TV. And then, BLAM! It hit me. The whole point of starting the blog was to get me off the couch. So I thought, why not have a blog that gets me to do a whole lot of things off the couch?

Me not sitting on Mr. Couch

There it is: my story. Maybe I’ll learn to like blogging. Or maybe it will end up in the “I’m never going to finish this” pile, along with reading Moby Dick. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but hopefully the things I decide to do will improve me, and help me grow. In the very least, I hope to say goodbye to my dear friend, Mr. Couch.