Memories...What Memories

I am unsure as to why the particular occurrence I’m about to recount chose to invade my thoughts today and stir up a pack of distressing memories, but it did. So, I might as well take the opportunity to get this little ditty from my past out of “brain storage” and onto the blog.

Twenty-eight years ago this summer, or half my life-time ago, my friends Ralph & Carlisa and my niece, Cheri – who was fifteen at the time – and I were heading home after a ten-day vacation in Florida. We had spent most of the time at a condo in New Smyrna Beach and then traversed the state to spend a couple of days with mutual friends in Port Charlotte. (Aside: Port Charlotte took a direct hit from Hurricane Charley in 2004 and obliterated my friends’ homes.)

Back to 1980. We departed Port Charlotte in the afternoon and drove through some of the most tempestuous weather I’ve ever experienced…blinding sheets of rain pelting the windshield and making driving a true adventure. I was driving…guess I forgot to mention that. Back then, I did all the driving…if I was in the car, I wanted to be behind the wheel. Now, I’ve mellowed a bit and am more content to be a passenger.

Since we got a late start, coupled with the inclement weather, we spent the night somewhere near the Georgia border, then continued our journey the following morning. We had just stopped for a bite to eat and were getting down to some serious driving…we planned on driving straight through to Ohio that day…(you know what “they” say...we “plan,” God laughs...) when it happened.

We were traveling north on I-75, just south of Atlanta when I came up on a semi in the left lane. I was a little bit leery about passing the truck on the right-hand side, but he was just “languishing” in his lane, so I made sure he wasn’t about to change lanes, then started to pass him. As I was about to clear him, I checked my side mirror to make sure I was beyond his rig just in time to see him “clip” the tail end of my car. The rest of the tale becomes a tad “blurry” because there was evidently much yelling and screaming going on inside the car, but I blocked it out; I was madly trying to regain control of my now “out of control” vehicle.

As we zigzagged from left to right and veered off the edge of the highway, barely avoiding tumbling over the side and down a deep ravine, I managed to steer us back onto the road…only to have the car swerve in front of the massive truck. That is when I chanced a brief glance over my shoulder and out the side window and all I could see was the grill of that truck and then I remember saying, “Oh, my God,” because I knew we were all dead. I mean, the truck was actually “pushing” us up the Interstate sideways.

People have asked me since then how I managed to get out of the truck’s path and my answer has always been a very simple one. “God reached down and lifted him off of us.” That is the only explanation. Following my fleeting glimpse of the truck, the next instant we were in the grassy median. The car lurched upward as if it might flip over, then plopped harmlessly back to the ground…and all was quiet. Then this calm voice from the back seat (Ralph) said, “Is everyone all right?” We said yes, and then he added, “Get out of the car!”

I have to say that people traveling in all directions were great. Several people had stopped their cars and were to us before we had managed to climb out. Then the truck driver came running up to me, demanding to know why I was driving “all over the road.” I told him I wasn’t driving all over the road until he hit me, and he said, “Oh, no! You hit me!” I just looked at him and said we’d wait for the police to sort it all out and walked away. Luckily, we had a lot of witnesses to corroborate what truly happened and one lady came up and hugged me before she left and told me the police had her name and number and to call if I needed her to testify or anything.

When it was all over, the truck driver got to climb in his rig and drive away, and I had to have my car towed to a local garage for repairs. Then there was Carlisa. She had not been wearing her seat belt and had banged her head against the windshield, so they carted her off to the local emergency room to get her checked out. While we were at the ER, that is when Ralph and I made phone calls home. I was fine…had held it together…until I heard my mom’s voice on the other end of the phone and then I started to cry...well...sob. But ever dependable Ralph was standing behind me, and he put his reassuring hand on my shoulder for support and then I was okay.

I told Mom what had happened, where we were, that we were all right, that Harold & Patty would never trust me with their daughter (my niece, Cheri) again, and ended by saying that I didn’t want to drive the rest of the way home. That’s when I glanced up at Ralph and he said he didn’t want to drive either. Anyway, we spent the rest of the day trying to come up with the money to get the car fixed. That was back in the day when we were all “poor.” It was at the end of the vacation and we were headed home with very little cash and even less available balances on credit cards.

Actually, for all we had been through, the car suffered minimal damage. There was some body damage, of course, to my door and the panel behind that. Other than that, however, all I needed to do to get us back on the road was purchase four new tires and get the oil plug retightened. The body work and a new alignment could wait until we got home. With a little “creative” money management, we were able to take care of that, then we collected Carlisa from the hospital…she basically had a bump on her head and a wrenched neck, so she was wearing a neck brace…and got back on the highway headed north. Yes, I climbed back up on that horse...metaphorically speaking...and drove.

It would not be possible to make it back to Ohio that day, but we were determined to get the heck out of Georgia before stopping for the night, and so we did. We stopped a few miles across the border into Tennessee and found a motel. When I called home to tell Mom where we were and how everyone was, the first thing she asked me was, “Who drove?” I told her I did, and she said, “I didn’t think you’d let it get the better of you.” My mom…she always had more faith in me than I did. I miss her terribly.

You know, we never truly understand why we are destined to experience these kinds of things, or why…at the last split second …we’re yanked from the jaws of certain death. I only know that a couple of months later, I sold my first book and…more importantly…the next year, Nathaniel was born.

Oh, a couple of things I forgot to mention. The truck driver did call back to the hospital to check on Carlisa. The police said they finally convinced him that he was "at fault." There were just too many witnesses for him to continue arguing the contrary. It was never "confirmed," but we think he dozed off at the wheel. It makes sense because he kind of "drifted" into my lane. To this day, whenever I'm passing a semi...I don't mess around. I simply kick it into gear and boogaloo on down the highway.

So, there you have it...the story of how I tangled with one of these babies...and lived to tell the tale.