I read a story this morning found on Digg called How Does It Feel to Die? It’s a fascinating read if you’re into the scientifically morbid stuff, discussing the differences between a drowning death, a hanging death, decapitation, death by motor vehicle accident, and so on.
A reader on Digg’s site commented on a dream he had once where he died — it felt very real and the worst part was not being able to tell his family to not be sad. I stopped reading after that comment and left for work, leaving the page up on my computer and didn’t think another thought about it.
Later in the afternoon, I was driving my Elliott car to an appointment with a client. I do love my Elliott. He is great fun to drive and a very spiffy color. The only thing about the Honda Element is they have pretty large blind spots, as you’re about to find out here in a minute.
So Elliott and I were stopped at an intersection on Highway 119 heading towards 280 and about to go under the I-65 overpass. The 119 turn lane to get on I-65 South had the green arrow and various cars were making their turn.
I watched as I then got the green light and three more cars continued to turn left through the intersection. The last one was a white sedan. I remember thinking, “Asshole,” then the intersection opened up and I began to go forward.
The next thing I remember is a cloud of dust to my left and I look out my side window to see nothing but the grill of a huge 18-wheeler feet away from the side of my car, stopping just in time. He was turning left, too, though I had the green light. I didn’t even see him until he was beside me. That entire 18-wheeler fit into the blind spot created by my side mirror and door frame.
I’m not sure if his lane had a yield-on-green signal or an absolute red light, but that’s not the point. So what if I had the right-of-way? If his brakes hadn’t have worked or if he hadn’t have noticed me in time, he would have slammed into the driver’s side of my car, right where I was.
The reality of this, of what could have happened, hit me not ten seconds after I continued on my way from my non-accident, and I immediately became upset and shaky. I thought of my husband, my parents, my sister, and how quickly we almost came to having a very shitty day. The Digg user’s comment about not being able to tell his family not to be sad came back to me in a rush.
The quickness of how everything happened is what scares me most. One second I’m entering into an intersection and the next second I’m looking at the grill of a truck. I’m irritated because I consider myself a good driver and technically I didn’t do anything wrong, but there was more I could have done. I knew about the blind spot with Elliott; I should have checked the turn lane for idiots. I hate that I can only do so much and for the rest I must rely on the intelligence and good reaction times of others.
And so all these thoughts pour through my head as I continue on Highway 119. My tears threatened to spill over but I refused to let them only because I was on my way to an appointment with a client and I was wearing the wrong kind of mascara for a crying jag.