I have an hour commute to work along Rt. 17, and I've always thought in the back of my head, "You know, statistically, I can't make this commute every day without eventually having a major accident."
Last night (1-28-09) there was a sudden white-out on the highway. I was only five minutes from home; my exit ramp was in sight. I changed lanes to let an aggressive tractor trailer pass me on the left. I suddenly lost control of my car on a slick patch of ice. I fish-tailed around, found myself in the middle of both lanes, facing the tractor trailer.
He hit me at 65 miles an hour head-on. All I remember about the impact were his headlights. His big headlights.
After the impact, I had nice, leisurely glide across two lanes, and a gentle landing in a snow bank. "Hey this isn't so bad. As long as I don't roll into the river or get hit by another car, this might end up being totally bad-ass. I so missing work tomorrow."
And INDEED I DID. I sat on my ass all day today and watched "World's Most Blankiest-Blank" and "When Animals Catch on Fire" and "the West Wing." I had sausages and ravioli. I had a cat in my lap and an electric blanket. Other then this cumbersome brace on my arm, I lucked out. Wish I could say the same for the car.
To the Rt. 17, all I can say is, "Fuck you, I'll be driving on you again tomorrow."