To the big ass truck driver who almost hit me last
night: Yes, you have a big-ass
truck. How appropriate that YOU drive
it. They say some people buy dogs that
look like them. They say some people buy
vehicles that reflect their personalities.
Mission accomplished.
I work in healthcare, but I am not a hero. I go to church but I am not worthy of the
title Christian. I have taught people
the importance of intentionally cultivating virtues (like patience, and
forgiveness), and yet I myself am a work-in-progress. Somehow between now and tomorrow morning when
I go to church I have to figure out how to forgive you for almost killing both
of us.
I was leaving work, it was dark. My regular lights were on, as were my fog
lights because then I can see better. The
road was clear. I was listening to an
interview on the radio where someone was talking about how to raise children
that feel they can communicate with you.
You have to start when they are little and say: “You can tell ME anything.” I found that fascinating and a very purposeful
child-rearing technique. I was thinking
about who I could share that with. I was
driving in a straight line, and I was driving about 5 miles slower than the
speed limit.
This past summer I told my nephew who is a brand-new driver
what You again proved last night. That I
can be the best, most careful driver in the world but I still have to take into
account that we are surrounded by inconsiderate idiots on the road. People do things you just can’t predict or reckon.
And THOSE are the people new drivers - and
all drivers - have to watch out for.
I also told him that I found that just before an Event
happens on the road, we find ourselves moving in slow-motion. It’s like the Twilight Zone. Last night found that to be true as
well. I could hear the radio interview
in regular conversational tone, but I could see you coming down from the hill
on the road to my right and looking like you weren’t going to stop. Some drivers wait until the last minute to
stop at the sign and that makes me crazy – because YOU NEVER KNOW WHO IS GOING
TO MISS THE STOP SIGN … LIKE YOU DID.
I watched you keep coming into the road and in less time
than it takes to type this I saw 3 options in front of me: #1) to stay straight and hit you on your
driver’s side and kill us both; #2) to swerve to the right and try to go up
that Side street hill without flipping my vehicle or clipping your truck bed;
#3) to swerve out to the left into the oncoming lane where no traffic was
coming. All of those three options were
in front of me in a split second in a very omniscient way. Yet, I was only
thinking how bad it would be to go to the hospital where I work, dead, in the
back of an ambulance.
You know what I chose.
I am amazed that I did not have the wherewithal to even swear at you and
your big ass truck as you caused this scene.
As if I had eyes on the back of my head, I saw you change course from
your initial attempt to shoot out in front and around me to turn quickly,
sharply and go behind me. My heart in my
chest felt like it was quivering as I drove along.
Were you in a hurry to pick up a pizza? Were you on your way to get beer? Were you already rushing someone to the ER
for some reason? What was so important
that you were going to blow off that stop sign and shoot into my path to try to
cut in front and around me to the left side.
I will never know. But what I do
know is this – you have added to an already totally stressed-out year by being
a belligerent driver. I consider us
walking away from this in one piece as no less than a MIRACLE.
In this last twelve months: I have buried a close friend, consoled
another friend who buried her husband, tried to help colleagues at work not get
bogged down with talk of the pandemic, talked with my parents through the serious
health issues they are struggling with, dealt with a bully at work, had hives,
and other health issues crop up, had stressors this week relative to my dog’s
upcoming surgery and the list goes on ….
But this morning when I got out of bed it was like I didn’t remember in
my brain what happened last night. Instead,
my whole BODY remembered it …. I ached and shook from the stress. I was not sure I could pull myself together
and move into the day.
Oh, but I did. Like
every other day, I pulled myself together.
I put myself in God’s hands. I
tried to get some life energy flowing through me by putting one foot in front
of the other. I looked at my weekend
task list and started to do the small things that were manageable. I still could not process the events of last
night yet. So, here I am doing it the
way I know best: writing about it.
I am someone. I
deserve to live as much as you do. I have
dogs that depend on me, friends and family that care about me. I want to see my nephews make Eagle Scout
someday. I want to be there for my
sister when she achieves her next big thing in life. I am needed in the delivery room at a
neighboring hospital to help a young woman have a baby in February. I matter.
I may be a small piece in the puzzle but you, Mr. Big Ass Truck Driver,
do not see that even small pieces matter.
You think you are first.
I hope you get your license taken away. If last night was not a wake up call for you,
if you are talking to your buddies saying what a kick-ass driver you are that
you avoided a collision last night, I hope you don’t kill someone from your
recklessness. Actually, I hope every
neighbor on your street lets their dog dump in your driveway.
Maybe tomorrow I can forgive you. But for now, I am really, really mad at you.
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