Sorry to my five little followers, I didn't write anything this morning because of lots of issues: car to be serviced, Internet down, plumber coming, conference-planning troubleshooting, preparing for class tonight - but you don't really care about all that. All this just reinforces how much we depend on time. Here's a description of a car accident I had about 20 years ago. A lot can happen in 120 seconds.
I am running late to work – it is 7:52 am - I need a good twenty minutes to drive downtown and be atwork by 8:00. I’m not speeding – just 5 miles an hour over the posted limit – so I’m not worried about getting pulled over. I’m tense – gripping the steering wheel with both hands – concentrating on the cars in front of me. I can never understand how women can drive to work and put their mascara on at the same time. I need a mirror - would probably poke my eye out without one. I’ve even seen men reading the newspaper – folded on the steering wheel. And the cell phone texting – don’t get me started! Crazy drivers – no wonder there are so many accidents.
To the right - out of the corner of my eye – I spot a huge white car – is it a Lincoln? – pulling out from the side street. He doesn’t even come to a complete stop – doesn’t even slow down - he is going at least 15 miles an hour.
My God! He’s going to hit me!
The Lincoln makes contact on the right front of my Toyota Corolla – propelling my car into a 360-degree spin. From the force, my right forearm presses into the steering wheel – throwing me to the left – smashing my head into the window – the seat belt cuts into my ribs on the right. I can feel my car spinning – I can’t do anything about it – except allow the circle caused by the centrifugal force to continue until it comes to a complete stop. This throws me to the right – back again to the left.
I sit there dazed. Then I realize what had just happened - I open the door to get out. Someone opens the door for me, but will not let me leave my car.
I hear sirens – my whole body is numb – someone is talking to me – I don’t respond.
Two strong arms engulf me and lift me out of the car – I’m being placed on a flat board – straps go across my stomach and legs – a brace around my head. I realize I’m in an ambulance. I don’t want to leave my car, but I have no choice.
The sirens stop – my body and hard bed is rolled through doors that open automatically – I’m swallowed by antiseptic aromas – I’m going to be late for work.