I headed out for work today in what seemed like a torrential downpour. I mean, it was raining hard. I go the same route every day, and I've gotten to know it pretty well. I've trimmed a two-hour trip down to as short as an hour and thirty-eight minutes. That means almost an extra half-hour sleep every night.
I listen to podcasts during my commute. I've listed some of my favorites in the past (links in the sidebar). Today, I was listening to The Daddy Panel, from 101 Uses for Baby Wipes. The Daddy Panel consists of three to five podcasters who are also fathers, discussing things that are important for fathers everywhere. The first topic today: do you have arrangements for who will raise your children if something should happen to both parents at the same time? As my wife and I have yet to make such arrangements, it was quite interesting. As they switched to another topic (vasectomy, no less), I felt a sudden change as I started to round a curve in the pouring rain.
It was then that my world shifted gears. It was like going from a badly timed reel-to-reel World War Two propaganda clip to a frame-by-frame image played in high definition on a big screen plasma TV. I saw as much as felt the back tires start to get away from me. Obviously I couldn't actually see them, but I could see them in my mind as real as if they were right in front of me.Trying to remember everything I've ever learned about recovering from a skid, I turned the front tires into the skid. As I continued to slide sideways down this (luckily) deserted highway at a high rate of speed, I felt another change in my flight path. The car began to slide not only sideways, but also backward toward the edge of the road, and the ditch that lay beyond. I reacted impulsively and instinctively and applied the brakes. The back of the car left the road as I continued to travel sideways, half in and half out of the ditch.
It felt like the car was knocking down cornstalks in the field behind me as it continued to careen out of control. I was consciously aware of every crunch creek break and shatter when the right rear bumper caught hold of solid ground and my world was turned upside down.If you've ever been in a car as it rolled out of control, then you know as well as I now know that it isn't an easy experience to describe. I'll give it a shot anyway.
I've heard stories of people who see their life pass before their eyes. Maybe they still needed to make Peace with God, because that's not what happened to me at all. The already intense sensory perception that I described as akin to high def television became something incomprehensible. As the car started to tip, I held onto the the wheel and looked up toward the top of the windshield. I heard the right front fender crunch as it crashed into asphalt. As the car came down on its top I saw the windshield crack one small piece at a time, as if in sequence, and heard the crushing metal as the top of the car started to close in on me. Once upside down, I thought, I'm going to die today. As the car floated through the air upside down, I heard the deafening sound of silence -- the total absence of the sound of crushing metal and shattering glass that had surrounded me mere moments before.
As the car continued to roll, I wondered if it would ever stop, and if it would land upside down or right side up when it did. I thought of my wife and kids. As the driver's side came in contact with the ground, I once again heard the crunching of metal on asphalt and was happy to be out of the silence. I looked up again, expecting to see the rest of the top of the car close in on me. Then everything stopped.It was quiet again, and I was still strapped in with the seatbelt. The windshield was reduced to a million little shards of glass held together by a thin spidery web. The roof of the car over the passenger's seat was crushed in. I thanked God there were no passengers. The roof over my head seemed surprisingly in tact. Roughly five seconds after the car stopped moving, two thoughts crossed my mind. I'm okay! And then, Am I okay?
I threw open the door and jumped to my feet on the street in the driving rain. I consciously thought, If this hurts, I'm not okay. It didn't hurt. The rain soaked me. I dropped back into the car and closed the door.
As the first car approached, I opened the door and waved for them to stop. They did, as did several more. I called 9-1-1 and frantically tried to call my wife. To 9-1-1, I said, "I've just had an accident." I answered the questions of where and when, and when asked if I was hurt, I said, "No," then turned to a passing motorist and said, "I'm not bleeding anywhere, am I?"
Miraculously, I wasn't bleeding. I wasn't hurt. In fact, the only injury I sustained was a piece of glass that lodged into my thumb as I picked up some things that had been thrown from the vehicle.
This, today, is my gripe: my car has been totalled. But more than a gripe, I am thankful. I'm blessed to be writing this right now, for I'm home, safe and sound, with my wife and two children. God isn't finished with me yet.
As I rode home from the towing company with my wife, and several other times throughout the day, we spoke of what it would be like for our kids if Daddy hadn't been able to come home today. My eyes welled up with tears.
As I explained to my three-year-old son what happened, demonstrating with a Lego car, I told him that Daddy's car was broke. When he asked, "Where is it?" I simply said, "Gone." Then he said, "Daddy home." And I said, "Yes, buddy, Daddy's happy to be home."
I still have that little piece of glass in my thumb. It hurts when I touch it against something. It provides a constant dull throb of pain -- a constant reminder of a second chance.
Joe
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