It was as if I had just been rudely awakened from a dream, except there was no “if” about it—because that is exactly what had happened.
Out there in the fast lane just outside Lansing, Illinois, on the way to meet up with friends in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and from there to explore Ontario and Québec on a long road trip.
Ten days out from home, some eighteen still to go, on the road all morning, the eyelids having wanted to droop several times in the hour just past, discussion having commenced about pulling over soon for rest and refuel. A highway change complicates the picture as suddenly thick stop-and-go traffic makes for a difficult exit.
Torpor sets in, a kind of stop-and-go hypnosis, a five-yard forward crawl followed by a five-second stop, rinse, repeat, foot off brake, foot back on, off-on, off-on, off-on, off-on, off-on…
BANG.
Wrenched back to waking life, Mary having been asleep for a while, me for a few precious (ha!) seconds, both of us startled, my brain with but one initial thought: “Where am I, and what the hell just happened?”
Gathering my wits, I fully wake to the fact that I had just rear-ended the car in front of me, the one with the “Chicago Bears” license plate holder I had been fixated on for what felt like the last three hours or three days or three hundred years, was hard to tell right at that moment.
As it turned out, the driver’s car sustained what looked to be a minor dent and he drove off after the requisite exchange of license and insurance cards, along with my profuse and embarrassed apologies for this first-ever accident in my experience that was my own damn fault—damn!
Compounding the situation: our car, a Honda CRV, endured quite a bit more damage (photographic proof at top of this page), even at what could not possibly have been more than our prevailing traffic jam-constrained speed of five miles per hour, tops. Bumper dragging the ground, hood misshapen, air conditioner having emitted a nasty hissssssss before going dead—it was in quite a bit worse condition than we were, even if we did have to wait 90 minutes in 90-degree heat (nice symmetry there!) for the tow truck to arrive.
The time waiting there on the fast lane (another ha!) shoulder did allow us to hatch a contingency plan for continuing the trip, starting with a Lyft ride to a hotel after our tow truck driver dropped us and our car at the body shop (closed, it being Sunday). The plan jelled when the body shop delivered the car’s repair cost estimate the next day, which the insurance company said exceeded its value.
Whereupon we drove off in the rental car we had secured and proceeded to enjoy the wonderful sojourn I related here in last week’s post, leaving the issue of a replacement car purchase and insurance haggling for another day, upon our return.
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My purpose in relating all this is two-fold, I think. I wasn’t particularly looking to do so, given the general thrust and purpose of this blog. But as ever, I found myself curious about what might come of me writing about it—of laying myself somewhat bare and humble not only in front of you, but myself as well.
Being at fault so clearly, in a clear moment of failure to listen and act upon my obvious fatigue and need to pull over much more readily than I did, put multiple parties at risk. That is a sobering thing, giving me plentiful pause to reflect upon whether good old male hubris and the over-confidence of having driven all those accident-free miles over all those years helped set me up, lulled me to sleep, as it were, regarding the risk I was taking by not listening to my body.
That last part stabs in particular ways, given my lifelong practice of athleticism and the otherwise healthy confidence it has bred in knowing and trusting my body to perform as I need it to. In this case, I knew I was due for a stop, but found it inconvenient to act on that knowledge, so I gambled on being able to forestall it longer than proved to be possible.
And what a crazy, ridiculous, ill-advised gamble that turned out to be.
Big lesson learned there, and along with it, the knowledge of just how fortunate I and others affected by me were that I was driving five miles-per-hour instead of fifty-five. In the end, the damage was to a couple heaps of metal, my bank account and insurance rate, and my ego.
So, that old commoner’s philosophical maxim rings true yet again: “It could have been so much worse…”
Finally, the second reason I decided this morning to write about this event: One or other of you might see yourself or some future situation in this post, and it may pop into your head, at an opportune moment as you find yourself yawning behind the driver’s wheel, that you can—and perhaps had better—make a different decision than I did at the time.
The life you save by doing so may be your own, or a loved one’s, or at the very least, your car’s, and trust me: They’ll all appreciate it, as will you.
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Mary’s contribution, encountered more than once in French-speaking Québec, which we took much more notice of than we usually do regarding highway signs!
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There were moments and hours in the accident’s aftermath when thoughts of aborting the trip and heading home sweet home surfaced in conversation, but after due deliberation we decided to follow a different voice, and we wound up feeling, predictably enough, glad we did….
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Deep appreciation to the photographers! Unless otherwise stated, some rights reserved under Creative Commons licensing
Homepage rotating banner photos (except for library books) by Elizabeth Haslam https://www.flickr.com/photos/lizhaslam/
Library books by Larry Rose, Redlands, California, all rights reserved, contact: larry@rosefoto.com
Wrecked Honda by Andrew Hidas https://www.flickr.com/photos/andrewhidas/
Traffic jam by Doug Waldron https://www.flickr.com/photos/dougww/
Just glad you and Mary are ok!
So sorry my old friend. I can’t tell you how many times I was driving home from work and my eyes were so tired I wanted to pull over and never did. So far I always made it, but I will think twice about it now. This is a great lesson and I appreciate that you shared it.
Let me first say I am so happy you and Mary weren’t injured , and although the car was totaled, it is not the end of the world!
The first time you were responsible for an accident???? What a remarkable achievement given your 58 years of driving. To contrast…
As a young man afflicted by the yet unnamed and incurable disorder called ADHD, I was inattentive and frontal-cortex absent in my teens and early 20’s and managed to rack up a series of fender benders and collisions (not to mention tickets). My insurance was with the insurer-of-last resort (called the state applied risk at the time)…minimal coverage for maximal idiots. Throughout my life I would go a couple of years without issues, then a rash of accidents (usually all my fault) and tickets would again put me in peril with the DMV and the insurance carriers. Finally got diagnosed (formally) with ADHD, got medication which helped immeasurably.
I have previously taken your advice about listening to our body, when 18 months ago, I became the sole driver in your home of two (my wife’s eyes sensitive to light and she can no longer drive). I think at that moment, I realized I had become a full-on ADULT and had to be responbible.
So, pull over, take a nap, get some coffee or No-Doz, and venture out again, older and wiser!
Thanks, Robby—that is the important thing, and in the end, the only important thing…
DJ, you & me both, Bro. My luck finally ran out, but on the other hand, I am pretty darn lucky to be able to write & laugh about it in retrospect. Plus the idea that if only one person takes heed and perchance saves themselves from catastrophe, this was worth doing. Many thanks.
Moon, that is quite a story, and stands as a testament to 1) your persistence and tenacity in keeping on into the teeth of the challenges you faced, and 2) the power of modern pharmaceuticals to essentially save lives—or at least make them a lot more functional than they might have been given the various impediments many people face from birth onwards. I appreciate you sharing this core part of your life story, and the adaptations you have made to actively mold it.
Having also survived this debacle, I echo Andrew’s sentiments… and include this apt photo that was taken mere days before in Columbus, Indiana.
Well, just turn your head sideways to view the photo…seems appropriate!
Been there, done that. Glad no one was hurt! My excuse for rear ending the car in front of me was a flooded auto mall along highway 101 in 2006 with lots of half submerged brand new cars leading to my distracted driving. Unbeknownst to me as I looked away from the road, traffic was suddenly stopped in front of me and BAM! The air bag deployed in my car which was also totaled, no one was hurt and the huge SUV in front of me sustained very little damage. Lesson learned. Eyes on the road! Thanks for your cautionary tale, Andrew. You’ve made it a little less likely that the rest of us will have a similar accident in the future. And Lord knows, not all of us will end up so lucky that no one gets hurt.
Ahhh, Al, the Rubber-Necking Looky-Loo Disease, an old staple of rear-end accidents! The strange thing for me was we weren’t even going fast enough for the air bags to deploy—and still a total loss. Sometimes I wonder whether the auto companies secretly bought up the entire body shop industry and then proceeded to make all their cars out of the essentially styrofoam shells that go crunch in a stiff breeze. Give me a body shop any day over a car dealership!
Several comments. First, I can’t believe your accident didn’t show up on our thread. If I missed it, I’ll blame sleep. Second, Willie’s song, while great, its message about the joy of being on the road could be partially muted by the accident. Third, I fell asleep once near Santa Barbara but only hit a guard rail, avoiding exchange of names and insurance, possible law suit and need for a new car. Fourth (should be first) thankfully no one was hurt. Fifth, Jack Kerouac wrote, “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.” Finally, I’ll leave you with the wisdom of Eleanor Roosevelt, which at this time in our latter years, may be more to the point—”Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art.” As always, Spence.
I echo the chorus of “so glad you are both OK!”. I, too, have logged many thousands of miles in my 61 years of “legal driving” – done some hair-brained things, primarily alcohol induced, that looking back I can only plead foolishness and serious luck. Your cautionary tale is a great reminder to all of us to pull over and stretch, grab a coffee, or do something to reinvigorate those brain cells & keep everyone safe!
Robert, I thought about conveying the incident via text, but was so immersed in working out the details of how to proceed with the trip in those immediate aftermath days that I had zero energy to reflect on much else—and it was too early to blog on it at that point. (Didn’t even consider it at the time.) Then the rest of the vacation kicked in, which I did blog on because I didn’t want to have it be overshadowed by the accident. Then, just on the morning I wrote this, I had a sudden conviction/inspiration to write it up and see where it led. Anyway, I do so appreciate any comment that manages to reference hitting a guardrail and invoking Jack Kerouac and Eleanor Roosevelt, and I’m gonna file that Eleanor quote away for future use!
Kevin, I have every reason to believe I was with you on more than one of the “hair-brained” excursions you reference, and am surpassingly glad for our good fortune in surviving them and being able to carry on as we are. Carpe diem, Brother!
“Just outside Lansing Illinois” is just outside my hometown of Riverdale IL. So glad you had a wonderful experience (sic) on the Frank Borman Expy, in the local parlance. It is often thick as mud with traffic, and I’m so glad the poor CRV (we have one too) was the injured party. Fun fact, you were also very very close to the current Pope’s hometown of Dolton (next to Riverdale), so maybe da Pope’s (as well as da Bearz) vibes helped take the damage down a notch. Yes, you were the victim of an ‘inconvenient (bodily) truth’, and being on the “I can just go a little further” side of that argument often, I appreciate the real reminder to get down with the mindfulness of the body and take time outs in a timely manner!
Dang, Jeanette, if I’d known that, we could have planned a cafe meetup, gotten off that horrid highway, and probably avoided the whole sad spectacle. Won’t pass that way again without giving you a shout!
Yes, keep it in mind!!