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| Pull up to my bumper, baby... |
I don't usually travel in the travel lane when I drive. I’m a slow lane kind of guy, or middle lane at best if I feel daring. For some reason on the morning of my accident, I decided the third lane was a better option. I was traveling south on Interstate 93 in heavy traffic heading into Boston at 8:30 in the morning. My radio was not very entertaining, so I popped in my favorite Blondie CD to listen to some tunes to distract me from the relentless boredom of my morning commute.
Somewhere before the Sullivan Square exit, something in my rearview mirror caught my eye. A driver in a BMW swerved out of the far left fast lane, apparently to avoid the carpool lane and the possibility of a steep traffic ticket. The car came up behind me so fast – one moment there was nothing in my rear view mirror, and the next moment a speeding car was dangerously close to my back bumper. In an instant, I heard a loud BAM as the car behind me was struck by the vehicle behind him. The impact pushed the BMW into the back of my car. The second loud BAM I heard was his car smashing into my rear bumper.
I had my seatbelt on but I was still jostled forward. I stopped my car and prayed there would be no more BAMS as I sat stunned by the impact. The drivers of the two vehicles behind me and I exited our vehicles to assess the damage. Luckily no one was injured, although the two vehicles behind mine were significantly damaged.
Being somewhat intelligent, I said to the driver who hit my car, “I think we’re supposed to pull over to the side of the road.” The driver said he wasn’t comfortable moving his car across three lanes of rush hour traffic. He called the state police at 911 to help our three vehicles maneuver to the breakdown lane. I told him I often wondered who the people were that get in these kinds of accidents as I drive past them on the highway. He replied, “I'm going to wait inside my car until the police arrived.” I guess he wasn't in the mood for small talk since his car acquired the most damage in the middle of the monkey pile. Perturbed at being snubbed, I returned to my car to gather my license and registration. I guess this wasn't the place or time to get to know your neighbor.
The police arrived promptly and guided the three vehicles to the breakdown lane. The officer collected our licenses and registrations. He returned to my car window several minutes later with copies of the police report and the information of the other drivers involved. I was rattled and shaken, but happy my Dodge Nitro saved my life. My SUV sustained no damage, a testament to good old fashioned American automobile design. The BMW that rear ended my auto wasn't so lucky. The car had over $1,000 worth of damage which meant even though I wasn't filing a claim for damages, I still had to fill out an accident report in triplicate and mail it to the police, the DMV and my insurance company. This accident turned into a real pain in the neck (literally). I continued on my merry way to work, but I left the office early after the adrenaline wore off and the realization of what happened started to sink in.
This accident made me wonder if outside forces exist that put us in the wrong place at the wrong time. Is it fate or grand design? That particular morning, I would have been on the road sooner, but I spent an extra ten minutes trying to find a certain necktie I wanted to wear. If I had chosen a different outfit and left the house ten minutes earlier, would I still have been involved in a three car pile-up, or was I destined for something far worse that was averted by my search for the perfect accessory. Does a higher power exist that sends us in and out of harms way? Are we always one step away from dangerous situations depending on the alignment of the stars?
Ironically, on my way home, Debbie Harry's voice echoed through my car stereo speakers as she sang, “...accidents never happen in a perfect world...”. I guess this world ain’t so perfect after all.
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