Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Here Comes the Meat Wagon

So yesterday, I'm driving along... driving along... screaming Kesha songs at the top of my lungs with the radio turned up so I can't hear the loud buzz of my wheel bearing, when out of the corner of my eye I see the tire of the car coming towards me in the opposite direction POP!

It always happens in slow motion, doesn't it? It's like the world slows down and you watch every inch of rubber explode at the same time, the car swerve across that yellow median, and you have 0.1 seconds to react.

I wouldn't have even SEEN it if the car behind him hadn't been tailgating him, lighting up the entire underbelly of his whip with his bright assholey headlights. And the timing was impeccable. I mean, we were FEET from each other when I saw the tire go.

In that hot split MacGyver moment of clarity before your fate is handed to you in a bloody breadbasket, what do you do? You take a look around and see what your options are. Option A: stay in your lane, keep straight, and hope the car doesn't spin out of control and knock you into next Tuesday. Option B: swerve to the shoulder, hope there aren't any pedestrians, squirrels or elderly folks out on a Rascal joyride, and avoid the collision. Option C: start yelling and swearing, and maybe pee yourself.

I opted for Option B, and a little of Option C.

The car swerved just over the median towards me, I drove over slightly onto the shoulder, and THANKFULLY he pulled BACK over into his lane. I watched his car shudder to the shoulder in my rearview mirror. I continued on my way, wide-awake and suddenly alert like I had never been in my life, thinking about all of the bad possibilities that could have happened, and the crazy timing of his tire blowing that I would have even watched that happen.

I bet the guy riding his ass had a moment of clarity himself. Hope he had good brakes.

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