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A Near Miss
by Bill Marles (Canada)
Eleanor and I took a winter break from cold, rainy Canada by driving down the I-5 toward southern California. We knew we were in the Golden State when we entered the Sacramento Valley near Redding, and the bigger and flashier California vehicles zoomed past us leaving our Toyota Corolla to eat their dust.
We weren't bothered. Instead we relaxed, enjoying the sun, the palm trees and the roadside farms that grew exotic crops like olives and nuts.
That calm was shattered, when about 60 miles north of Sacramento, Eleanor pointed to an erratically-driven vehicle coming from the opposite direction toward us. “Watch out,” she warned nervously.
I saw a distant car barreling down the other lane toward us, veering from side to side. At one point, its wheels wandered onto the shoulder and then swung sharply back again. Instinctively, I checked my rear view mirror. There were no vehicles following us, so I hit the brakes. My tires screeched and we fishtailed a bit, but I brought my vehicle to a stop.
Before I could pull over to the shoulder, the crazy driver suddenly swerved across the median and shot across our section of the road. He only missed us by about 100 feet. He plowed into a farmer’s field, made a 90 degree turn and smashed through the wall of a barn, his tail end sticking out into the daylight.
All this happened in a matter of seconds. No time to think; only to react. It was like a scene from a Hollywood action movie.
As I pulled onto the shoulder, Eleanor started shaking like a leaf. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.
“I’d better check things out,” I said, opening my door.
“Don’t go over to that barn, Bill. I think he’s got a gun!”
“A gun?”
“I saw his face. He had a strange, crazy look.”
Later we figured he was either stoned or else had been having a heart attack. I sincerely doubted that he was out to kill us. The barn wall had provided little resistance and so, I reasoned, it was doubtful that the other driver was seriously injured. We drove a couple more miles and saw a highways department pickup truck parked on the other side of the highway. Eleanor reported the accident to him.
We later pulled into a truck stop for lunch. And that’s where I broke down. I felt weak, ill and disconnected from my surroundings. We both knew just how close we had come to death.
I had made the right decision, but it could just as easily have been the wrong one as there was no way of calculating where that fellow would cross our path.
That night, a television report described the thousands of highway deaths in the state that year. But since our little incident didn't even involve injuries, it was ignored.
Back in Canada, I searched the internet for local reports on the accident. Nothing. However, a few days previously, in a nearby community, a rogue trucker had run over a Honda Civic and killed its occupants. Also, a deputy police officer was hit and killed while jogging beside a highway. Goodness grief!
It felt good to be alive and healthy, and back in boring Canada. Bad things happen north of the 49th too but not as often as in California. We continue to go down there, even though we recognize that it has a dark side.
We weren't bothered. Instead we relaxed, enjoying the sun, the palm trees and the roadside farms that grew exotic crops like olives and nuts.
That calm was shattered, when about 60 miles north of Sacramento, Eleanor pointed to an erratically-driven vehicle coming from the opposite direction toward us. “Watch out,” she warned nervously.
I saw a distant car barreling down the other lane toward us, veering from side to side. At one point, its wheels wandered onto the shoulder and then swung sharply back again. Instinctively, I checked my rear view mirror. There were no vehicles following us, so I hit the brakes. My tires screeched and we fishtailed a bit, but I brought my vehicle to a stop.
Before I could pull over to the shoulder, the crazy driver suddenly swerved across the median and shot across our section of the road. He only missed us by about 100 feet. He plowed into a farmer’s field, made a 90 degree turn and smashed through the wall of a barn, his tail end sticking out into the daylight.
All this happened in a matter of seconds. No time to think; only to react. It was like a scene from a Hollywood action movie.
As I pulled onto the shoulder, Eleanor started shaking like a leaf. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.
“I’d better check things out,” I said, opening my door.
“Don’t go over to that barn, Bill. I think he’s got a gun!”
“A gun?”
“I saw his face. He had a strange, crazy look.”
Later we figured he was either stoned or else had been having a heart attack. I sincerely doubted that he was out to kill us. The barn wall had provided little resistance and so, I reasoned, it was doubtful that the other driver was seriously injured. We drove a couple more miles and saw a highways department pickup truck parked on the other side of the highway. Eleanor reported the accident to him.
We later pulled into a truck stop for lunch. And that’s where I broke down. I felt weak, ill and disconnected from my surroundings. We both knew just how close we had come to death.
I had made the right decision, but it could just as easily have been the wrong one as there was no way of calculating where that fellow would cross our path.
That night, a television report described the thousands of highway deaths in the state that year. But since our little incident didn't even involve injuries, it was ignored.
Back in Canada, I searched the internet for local reports on the accident. Nothing. However, a few days previously, in a nearby community, a rogue trucker had run over a Honda Civic and killed its occupants. Also, a deputy police officer was hit and killed while jogging beside a highway. Goodness grief!
It felt good to be alive and healthy, and back in boring Canada. Bad things happen north of the 49th too but not as often as in California. We continue to go down there, even though we recognize that it has a dark side.
Andre Rheaume (Canada): Bill, you are an incredible writer that explains a true and dangerous situation you suddenly found yourself and wife in, but in the same way as you probably talk...simply.
Great job!
Great job!
