Is Four Several, a Few, or Many?
Generally speaking, several is used to refer to quantities above two or so but not so much that it's a lot or many. Perhaps the most common interpretation or intended sense of several is around three to five, but this can vary greatly depending on the context.- Dictionary.com
I grew up in a small town that was situated in a bowl of a valley. There are only a few ways in and out of the valley, most of which necessitate passing through a canyon. Of those canyons, one is prettier than the others, but also is the type of road that requires you to pay attention while driving the narrow, curvy road as well as the possibility of wildlife which can interrupt your safe passage.
Several decades ago, I was in the process of breaking up with a girl I had been dating. I will call her N, not wanting to use her real name. I have no illusions that she ever thinks of me, and severely doubt that she will stumble across this post. Dating her started okay, but then she began to get quite possessive of my time, and quite demanding. After a while, her demands began to be quite unreasonable, even down to timing how long it would take me to go from one place to another and giving me a deadline in which I had to call her. Things came to a head when she started to mention harming herself or others (meaning me or whomever I was seeing instead of her.) It was borderline Fatal Attraction type of behavior, but prior to that movie coming out.
This was pre-cell phone times, so making a phone call meant being at a physical place where there was a phone. Landline phones were hardwired into the wall or an actual phone booth. An investment of time and committing yourself to a location. Phone booths were great for talking in private to someone, but you worked out in advance that they would know the number and you would call (drop a dime) them at home and let the phone ring once, then hang up and retrieve your dime. They would call back and not only was the call free, your call would not time out requiring investing another dime.
I do not remember where I was coming from or going to one night, but I noticed that N was following me, so I started to just drive around town. Once N realized I knew she was there, she started to follow more closely, more aggressively. It was late, as in way after midnight late, the time of night when the town stoplights would flash amber north and south and red east and west. There were not a lot of other cars on the roadways and I just kept driving around the city and into the county. N began to drive even more erratically, enough so that I thought she might actually ram my car, so I began to increase my speed and distance between the two of us.
The chase was on.
Stop signs and traffic lights be damned. I was trying at first to stay at least close to posted speeds and obey the traffic controls, but N had no compunction about that stuff. She was flashing her high beams at me whenever she got close. I knew the roads better than she did, was arguably a better driver than she was, and definitely a lot less emotional at this point. I worked my way east through town on the main road to exit the valley through one of the previously mentioned canyons, which was one more benefit I had. I grew up, quite literally, in that canyon and in the wilderness through which it passed. We were now heading into my briarpatch.
I realized that N may well crash in the canyon, so I did not want the chase to go too far into it. I managed to increase the distance between us by simply being quicker on the throttle, ignoring the brakes in favor of downshifting, and straightening some curves. She honestly had the better, faster car. I had a better skillset. Once I was far enough in front of her that I knew I could take a side road and get out of sight, I picked a turnout that took me across a bridge over the river and went dark. I only had to wait a few minutes and then saw her car zoom past behind me. I gave her another minute or so and then returned down the canyon.
I was really worried that she was going to go off the rails and crash, so when I got to the mouth of the canyon, I pulled off the road and parked where I could watch the cars come out to see if she returned. I was there for about 20 minutes and had just restarted my car to look for debris or evidence of a possible crash, when I saw headlights coming out of the canyon and N flashed by at a very high rate of speed. I waited another 10 minutes or so and left, taking nothing but backroads. I did not want to go home yet for fear that she would be waiting for me there. I was not afraid of her, I was just avoiding the confrontation. Well, delaying the confrontation that would eventually happen.
I have often wondered why she put so much effort into trying to keep me. I freely admit that I was never that good looking, certainly not enough so that I warranted that kind of trophy seeking actions. I was nobody’s great catch. I was immature and callow. (Some would argue I never got past that stage.) I just was. I was me, nothing more. Once we did finally cut things off, she moved on to another guy almost instantly.
It was at that point where you have a hard time deciding whether it is still night or starting to be day. It was late enough that the sky was just about to lighten. I drove through the streets and through the gravel pit that is now filled with neighborhoods and homes. Back then, it was a favorite spot for young kids to drink beer stolen from their parents and to find out just what they did and did not know about the other sex. Giraffe Hill: a place you go to for a long neck.
It was empty that time of day, which did not really matter to me, but it did give me a feeling of isolation. I parked my car and shut it down, turning the key so I could listen to the radio. KNBR out of San Francisco. AM radio was great overnight. The signals would skip on the atmosphere and you could listen to stations from hundreds of miles away. I sat on the hood of my car, reclining on the windshield as I did just that. I let my mind wander and just sat there.
There is something magical to me in a sunrise. More so than a sunset. First, there are typically few people about. Second, it is the time that the one day passes the torch to a new day, and all the newborn possibilities and power that goes with that.
Giraffe Hill was located on the east side of the valley, which meant that with the steep mountains around the valley, the sun would come up and light the west side of the valley long before it would touch me. I remember being amused as I watched the sunlight slide down the Wellsville Mountains and across the valley. It certainly was not instant, but it happened a lot more quickly than I thought it would. About the time it did reach me, I got back in my car and drove home. I wondered whether N would be waiting there for me, but that was not the case this time.
Things ended shortly after that and another page turned. New chapter. N went on to her new guy, and they ended up getting married. A mutual friend told me years later that they were married, then separated, then reunited, then separated again. I do not know what their status is currently. It has been decades since this happened. They have their own stories.
