Valentines Day is approaching so I thought I’d tell a love story this week for anyone bored enough to read it. Here’s Part 1. It might not appear a love story, but stay tuned.

It was February 12, 1994. I was just about to spend my Valentine’s Day solo after breaking up with my 7+ year college boyfriend the previous Summer. I was figuring out this newly single life and it was exhilarating in that weird sometimes lonely and sometimes exciting way. I was busy becoming. And I was probably in my pensive-writing-poetry phase about this time, listening to Liz Phair and declaring my independence (lol). I was a few years out of college, working at CUES, and living the life of a young adult. That included living in an efficiency on Gorham Street in downtown Madison, going to see lots of live music, regularly dancing at the Cardinal Bar probably to a lot of Depeche Mode or Jane’s Addiction or Happy Mondays, and paying off student loans and the credit card debt I racked up (stupidly) from all those card offers in college. (Shout out to Summit CU for guiding me through that debt! But that’s another story.)

One way I saved money in those days was as a hair model for a local Madison salon called Smiles on Regent Street. A few times a year, I’d sit on a stage at some hotel while a hair stylist from TIGI England or NYC or Dallas cut my hair and explained the cut to an audience of stylists. It was fun and I always had a fresh haircut! That February, the hair show was in Milwaukee and I had convinced my friend and former college roommate to join me for the show. We took off to Milwaukee in my 1990 blue Geo Prizm amidst snowy roads on I94. (I mean, it was February. In Wisconsin.) We got to chatting and laughing and I may have had a little too much confidence given the road conditions. I hit black ice and the Prism starting shifting left and right down the highway. And I mean shifts in near-right angles. I calmly tried to guide the wheel in opposite directions to steady the car straight and I pumped the breaks to attempt to gain control and slow down. You know, all those tactics we Wisco kids grew up learning in High School Drivers Ed class. In what now seems like movie playback slow motion, the car did indeed slow and I came to a complete stop on the right shoulder while my right back end slid into the guardrails on the edge of the road.

I am now endlessly thankful for guardrails on highways. I am also thankful (and lucky!) that there were no other cars nearby when this happened. It was as if I was the only car on the road at that time and in that place. Shaken, I got out and checked the car, noticed the dent, got back in and checked in with my friend. We were both fine (physically) and decided to continue the drive (white knuckled and less chatty) to the Milwaukee hair show. I guess the shock of the accident left us feeling like we needed to continue on despite the new dent in my car. Damn. I’d need to get that fixed. I promise this does turn into a love story. Stay tuned for part 2.