I missed the photo of a lifetime... let this be a lesson.→[More:]

Prologue
I am obsessed with the sky and sometimes I think it's so beautiful that I should just take a picture of it through my windshield while driving home from work. I usually don't because it's only beautiful to someone as obsessed with it as i am. But anyway, the point is: I've been keeping my camera case in the backseat of my car just in case the sky gets to that point that I must take a photo of it.

Chapter One
So, today I am driving to work with my brain a third off, a third paying attention, a third listening to advertising in between sports talk radio, and a third looking at the sky. I come into Chicago from the Eisenhower, which as you near the city has many local roads crossing over and also two or three rail lines. As I come over a slight incline, I look ahead and I see a row of brand new, bright green John Deere tractors moving endlessly over the expressway like ducks in one of those amusement park shooting games that are always in video games but rarely in amusement parks. My eyes start to click into composition mode. Behind the row of John Deere tractors is the Sears Tower view of the Chicago skyline against a nicely textured overcast sky. It's rush hour so there is heavy traffic moving underneath --in a way, through-- this tractor parade. Lines are intersecting in all kinds of interesting ways with this bright green accent in an other wise colossal but drab scene. Oh. My. God. I think. And I grab for my camera in the backseat.

Chapter Two
This is a flashback, like in Lost. It's Wednesday, and I'm meeting an old employee at Map Room for drinks and an unexpected session of listening to novice poetry and giving a lesson on writing better poetry. I also have a delicious glass of Bear Republic IPA. YUM! I've been having lots of conversations with people lately about how I keep camera gear in the backseat of my car. I worry about it, but I like to have it handy and I conceal it enough that it probably wouldn't grab anyone's attention -- besides, thieves want stereos, GPS units and ipods not tripods and whatever is in random black bags. But I feel like I am going to be responsible tonight and put the items in the trunk.

Chapter Three
Present narrative time (I make you think it's the past, but actually it's the present... ha ha. tricked you!). I reach back to grab my camera and it's not there. I remember Chapter Two. Are you fucking kidding me? Maybe I can take a picture with my camera phone... just so that I have a record of this event. That's a stupid idea, I don't even know how to work my camera phone. I drive past.

Chapter Four
Self-analysis. I always miss photos because I hesitate for a split second. I have a great eye for unusual moments, but I naturally resist breaking moments with myself. I don't want to affect things, so my impulse is that half-second slow. I have to actively convince myself that it's ok, that inserting myself is what I should be doing. I often default to caution, and I'm actively trying to combat that. Wednesday night, I took caution too far, and right now I'm taking too much time to respond to this setback. As I close in on Downtown, I am debating with myself about how I can go about getting this picture. Finally, I say to myself... Turn around. You'll figure the rest out, you're good at figuring stuff out.

Chapter Five
I do exit the expressway and double-back, finding a perfect spot to shoot from and get to work on time. But at this point, that section of cars is long gone and only bland tankers are left.

Epilogue
I am frustrated with myself but plan on trying even harder to overcome my overly conservative nature whether that be disrupting others or disrupting my own pattern or simply throwing caution to the wind. I have the ability to do terrific things, but I absolutely need to get over these things. Today, they very clearly cost me. Let's not let it happen again.

If you read all of this, I am sorry.