Getting a Second Chance

Some people have amazing stories about escaping death. Mine isn’t too remarkable, but it scared the shit out of me. So I’m sharing it.

Fun Weekend

I was excited to visit my girlfriend in Michigan. Wisconsin (where I worked) was a new place, and I lived there for a little under a month. I didn’t know anyone in the area, so I was eager see my girlfriend.

Wisconsin to Michigan is about a 7.5 hour drive. The traffic around Chicago was awful, but being able to see her was worth it. There’s a loop around Chicago that backs up pretty badly. I tried to avoid it, but I lost about an hour by sitting in traffic.

Eventually, I made it to Michigan. We had a lot of fun. We went to an art fair and ate freshly fried ribbon potato chips, topped with cheese and bacon, and washed down with fresh squeezed lemonade. Delicious. And the local art was fun to browse too.

But like all weekends, it came to an end, and I started my long drive back to Wisconsin. I left around 3pm so I could make it home by about 10pm. I packed a mug of coffee and some snacks to help me get home. I kissed my girlfriend sadly and said goodbye, and I was on my way.

The Drive Back

Michigan is a boring state to drive through, but it made for easy driving. I also didn’t have much trouble in Chicago. I would be home in time to get a good night’s sleep for work the next day.

Once it started getting dark, I stopped at a gas station to fill up gas. I popped inside and picked up a bottle of Diet Mountain Dew. I grabbed some gum too. With a few more hours to go, I would need energy.

So I continued my drive. I eventually hit Wisconsin, which was a relief. Once you reach Wisconsin, it’s only about an hour or so until you get to Madison, where I lived. It was darker, but I could still see outlines of the scenery. Rolling green hills hugged the earth, and patches of trees clung to the hills.

I was still tired though, and I missed my girlfriend, so I gave her a quick call on my cell phone. At this point, home was about 45 minutes away. We talked the way we normally talked. Being a cautious driver, I moved to the right lane to let faster traffic pass me. I wasn’t in a hurry to get home.

During the conversation, she said something, but the poor reception cut her off. My phone dropped the call, and I couldn’t hear her. I said “hello? hello?” I looked down at the phone.

A loud “boom” smacked my ears. Along with the “boom” was the force of a battering ram against my back. The phone flew out of my hand, and my hands gripped the steering wheel. My elbows locked, and the muscles in my neck clenched.

Something had happened.

I shouted “oh my God” over and over. Frankly, I’m impressed that I was able to speak a coherent phrase. After impact, my car spinned wildly. My wheels and I were both screaming. I can still smell the rubber. The experience was surreal. At the time, I didn’t feel like I was the person in the accident. My life didn’t flash before my eyes, but I felt a strange separation from the body of the individual in my car. I felt like an observer. It was physics – and nothing that I did – that would determine my fate. At least for a moment, though, I did wonder whether this could be the end.

My car stopped against a concrete rail. I looked in my rear view mirror, and the headlights behind me were staring me down. I felt naked, but the worst was over. My phone had fallen into the passenger foot area, so I grabbed it and dialed 911 – my kindergarten teacher would be proud.

An ambulance eventually came, along with some off duty officers to help direct traffic. The paramedic asked if I was okay. I said “I think so.” He said, “is your engine still on? Turn it off for God’s sake.” I turned it off. Then I scooted over to the passenger side to get out because the concrete wall blocked the driver’s side door. My legs were weak, but I stood up to look around.

Leaning against one black car were two Mexican men – also victims in the accident. They seemed okay and not too rattled. In another car, there were people inside. They were alive, but bloody. The emergency crew carried them away in a stretcher. The two Mexican men came over and told me that the guy in the red car was the one to blame. He was driving almost a hundred miles an hour when he hit me. And when the two men approached the car to see if everyone was okay, the guy in the red car asked for a cigarette and reeked of alcohol.

The police gave me some paperwork to fill out, and a tow truck driver came to haul away my car’s carcass. He asked me if I needed a lift home, and I said “yes.”

Going Back Home

The driver of the tow truck didn’t say much. I told him that this was my first major accident, almost as if I was wearing it like a badge of honor. He wasn’t impressed. He said that his friends and him go out on weekends and crash cars for fun. What a lunatic.

I eventually made it back home, and thanked the driver for the lift back. He said “goodbye” and drove away with my wrecked car. Compared to the commotion of the evening, my parking lot was deathly quiet, and my mind could finally breathe. I exhaled and broke down. I was over a 1000 miles from home, and I escaped death just 30 minutes earlier. The evening moved faster than my mind, and everything caught up to me in the parking lot of my apartment complex. My mind’s reaction was to cry like a baby.

I called everyone to let them know I was okay. When I finally made it to bed, I left the lights on. The memory of the accident played repeatedly in my mind.

It took a few months to get over everything. I was deathly afraid of driving (especially at night) for several months. Come to think of it, I was afraid of everything for a while. The accident really shook me up.

Second Chances

I don’t know that I’ve ever told the entire story of my car accident to anyone, but that was it. Now it’s a memory in the past.

I can’t say that I’m a completely different person now, but death can be a fantastic motivational tool. I don’t talk on the cell phone while I drive, and I refuse to get sleepy behind the wheel of a car. My rear view mirror gets a lot more attention now.

More importantly, I realize that anyone’s life can end at any time. Sometimes it’s because of things that we can control, and sometimes it’s not. Usually it’s not. Nobody wants to die. Even people that commit suicide probably realize it’s a mistake once they set everything in motion.

Point is, don’t take any of the time that you’re given for granted because the time that you get is all that you’re ever going to get. You might even get less than you expect. And if you’re lucky like me, then you get a little more