I hate parking in Oakland. There are never any spaces. Pittsburgh, a city not particularly… I hate parking in Oakland. There are never any spaces. Pittsburgh, a city not particularly known for it’s environmental conscience, even pulled a reverse-Joni Mitchell and turned a parking lot into a park. And, for a car so big and for someone with my less-than-stellar driving abilities, the parallel spots are never big enough.

That’s why I decided to “compact” my car. Last weekend, I had been thinking that it was way too big, so I performed a vehicular circumcision. Unfortunately, the proverbial “moyel” I picked was the unsuspecting SUV driving in front of me on the way home from Kennywood. I crashed right into her. In a 1.5 second period that felt like 30, I got a hands-on lecture about how Hyundais have much better breaks than Oldsmobiles.

There were no serious injuries and, despite what the law might tell you, I still claim that it wasn’t entirely my fault. But the most alarming thing that came up from the accident, other than the fact that the untouched car that started it immediately drove away, was the lack of emotion that I felt at the time.

I was relatively calm. Except for some foul language, I acted as close to a normal human being as could be expected. I should have yelled and kicked my upwardly bent hood, but I didn’t.

It took me a while to figure out why. I had spent the last few hours before the collision exploring haunted houses and riding roller coasters. A self-proclaimed wuss, I spent much of that time yelling like a little girl and hanging on for dear life. I was so beaten up by all the artificial fears that by the time I got to a real one, I was flat out of emotion.

A few days after the accident, I sat down and thought about this. Intentionally putting myself in a scary situation helped me cope with actual hardship. It got me thinking about how many other times I purposely put myself in painful or stressful situations and how those times affected me when I confront real problems.

The list was pretty long. I watch horror movies in the dark. I put hot sauce on my eggs in the morning. I watch Pirates games. Every once in a while, I even shave. All of these actions hurt, but there has to be a reason to why I keep doing them.

And I don’t think it’s just me. If it were just me, there’d be no bungee jumpers or S and M shops. Tattoos wouldn’t exist. Nobody would listen to country music or watch “Mind of Mencia.” We put ourselves in painful situations every day, even if we don’t realize it.

I think I always knew this, but it never occurred to me that we did it out of self-preservation. I hadn’t realized that we manipulate our emotions to numb them. We hurt ourselves so we feel less when we’re actually hurt.

I’m not saying that eating spicy food makes us not care about car accidents. However, don’t you remember the last time you watched a really gut-wrenching movie? Weren’t you tired coming out of the theater?

I’m not even sure that this desensitization is a good thing. If my theory is correct, it is part of the same argument that graphic movies and video games make kids more accepting of violence. And what if freaking out during stressful situations is a positive emotional outlet. Maybe an occasional rage is not only important, but also healthy.

Maybe I’m right. Maybe I’m crazy. Even though it’s more likely that the latter is true, I was there Friday night and I know what happened. Roller coasters let me deal with the accident with a level head. Like a marathon runner too spent to pick up the phone, I simply didn’t have the energy to react accordingly.

So, now I don’t have to worry about parking anymore and the streets of Oakland are that much safer. The cop, who was nice enough to give us a ride to Eat n’ Park, brought up the most important point of all. He called it a “good” accident. When I asked why, he told me that he sees about three accidents a day, and the good ones are when the passengers walk away from it.

It wasn’t until that time that I realized the possible severity of the accident. It hadn’t occurred to me that my lack of emotion could have helped us avoid even worse damage. A less calm driver may have overreacted or put the passengers in even more harm. Thank goodness I scream like a girl at haunted houses.

E-mail Sam at [email protected] for his license, registration and insurance information.