A Brief Leap in Time
In Fall of 1994, my boyfriend and I were on our way home in Fallbrook, California. There are two roads into Fallbrook, from the north and from the south. We approached from the south heading north on Mission Rd., which is a four-mile, curvy two-lane road. It was a Friday evening and was 6:24 pm. I was driving, and had finally blurted out how weird it was that we hadn’t passed any cars in the opposite direction since our turn onto Mission Rd.
Fallbrook is a small town, but this was a very well traveled road, even on Tuesday at 10:30 p.m. you’d be passing cars leaving town! Anyway, I knew it was 6:24 because I had just looked at the big amber display on the stereo when all of a sudden the car died, pedal went hard, lights went off, and I remember feeling confused, and thinking that we ran out of gas, yet knowing that we had plenty of fuel. We coasted off to a dirt turnout immediately ahead. Jim asked what happened and I had no answer, but I felt like I had just dozed off or had gone through Jello or… I don’t know what.
I put it in gear, Jim jumped out, came around to my side and opened the door. I jumped into the passenger seat, he got in, cranked it over and – vroooom! – off we went. As we pulled away I felt irritated, a little nervous, but sure something really weird had just happened. Then I glanced at the clock on the stereo again, It was 6:36 p.m. 12 minutes had passed when, being generous, the whole incident couldn’t have taken more than 1-1/2 minutes, max. So what’s up with that?