Unanswered Questions

Some time ago, I received an e-mail from one of my readers, John P., about a close call he had while driving when he was 17 years old. Here’s part of what he had to say:

“There was no time to think, only to react. And there was no fear at all, until afterward. It’s like I knew exactly what to do (pull over to the opposite side of the road to avoid the oncoming headlights).

“Remembering back, it was as if I were playing a video game, avoiding a head-on crash. But for the next day or two I was shaking in fear, thinking ‘What if?’ I still think ‘What if?’ and I still have some residual fear.

“Thirty years later, I have a safe driving record, even while driving motorcycles for 20 of those years. (No longer now.) Maybe the one close call at an early age taught me to be careful.

“I believe in free will. And part of me believes I survived that close call because I had strongly chosen to stay alive and healthy. Just as, at other times in my life, I have hurt myself (physically or emotionally), choosing to do so on a subconscious level in order to gain the insight or knowledge that pain teaches.”

The reason John P.’s words caught my attention is because I had an almost identical experience when I was in my early twenties. It was dusk, and I was driving north on a two-lane highway in Kentucky, not far from the Ohio border.

At a distance – perhaps a quarter-mile or so – it appeared that a car was coming toward me on my side of the road. I thought it might just be an optical illusion. Still, I continued to watch the oncoming vehicle with great intensity, just to be sure.

As the distance between us rapidly closed, it became clear to me that the car definitely was on my side of the road – and headed straight at me. I instinctively glanced to the side to see if there was room to swerve off the road. Like something out of a nightmare, all I saw was a narrow strip of shoulder alongside a Kentucky-style drop-off from a cliff.

All of that took no more than a second. When I looked up, the speeding vehicle was getting so close that I could see that the driver’s right arm was flung across the top of the front seat and his head was lying sideways on top of it. He was either asleep or dead!

I frantically leaned on the horn until he was perhaps within 20 yards of me. In a millisecond, I had to decide whether to swerve to the other side of the road and chance hitting another car head on, or swerve to the right just enough to get out of the oncoming car’s path – and hope I wouldn’t go over the edge.

I guess by instinct, I chose the latter. Miraculously, I managed to keep from going over the cliff as the car whizzed by me. I looked through my rearview mirror and witnessed the most horrific sight of my young life. The car that had almost killed me slammed into the car that had been directly behind me.

It was like watching two toy cars collide. To this day, I not only can see the crash in my mind, I can hear the sounds of metal and glass bending, breaking, and flying through the air.

I got out of my car and ran to the scene of the crash. An elderly man and woman were stone dead in the front seat, covered with blood, heads thrown back over the top of their seats like mannequins.

I was shaking all over as I ran to a nearby farmhouse and yelled to some people on the front porch to call the highway patrol. The rest is kind of a blank, but I do recall that the driver of the other car was alive, and that a patrolman told me he was very drunk. He also said that, ironically, drunk drivers often survive deadly crashes such as this because their bodies are so relaxed.

After giving a statement to the officer, I drove the rest of the evening at a snail’s pace. I had developed instant paranoia about another car crossing over to my side of the road.

A year or two later, I was asked to fill out a form for the prosecutor in the county where the accident occurred, explaining in detail what had happened on that fateful night. I assume I helped put the perpetrator of that horrible crime in jail.

Since that time, I have been an advocate of stricter penalties for drunk drivers. To me, it is ludicrous that being drunk is considered to be a “mitigating circumstance.” If it were up to me, a drunk driver who kills someone would go to prison for life.

In my view, making the decision to drink and drive is as bad as premeditated murder, because it often ends with the death of others. And life-ending decisions should have life-ending consequences.

Drinking was no excuse for that driver in Kentucky to take the lives of two elderly folks. I thought a lot about how I would have felt had the victims been my mom and dad, and wondered who their children might be – and how devastated they must have been when they got the news.

So here I am, decades later, alive and well. Since that evening, I’ve cheated death on a number of other occasions – including a crash in a Learjet that totaled the plane. Part of me believes that in every case I was the beneficiary of divine intervention. But I cannot answer the atheist’s question of why God didn’t save that (presumably) innocent older couple driving just behind me.

In case you’re wondering, yes – I have often pondered why mine was the car in front rather than the car behind. I’ve even wondered if there was some way I could have maneuvered my car to bump that oncoming vehicle off course. I guess no matter how smart or successful we are, in the end, life is a series of unanswered questions.

[Ed. Note: It’s a difficult truth, but anything could happen at any moment. That’s why you need to live life to its fullest, every day. If you have unaccomplished goals or un-reached-for dreams, there’s no better time than now to achieve them. Get started – and get plenty of motivation, every step of the way – right here.

For a treasure chest of proven ideas, strategies, and techniques for increasing your income many times over, be sure to sign up for the Voice of Sanity e-letter.]

Comment on this article

  • We were on our way to work. It was a beautiful clear, Spring morning. I was sat in the passenger seat and my husband Bob was driving. In the back seat, were Francis and Anne, two young ladies who worked for me.

    We were on our way to Port Elizabeth from Uitenhage (in South Africa).
    As we turned a bend in the road, it was with horror, we saw coming towards us – on our side of the road, a fully loaded railway truck.

    Bob had to make a split second decision in order to avoid a head on collision. If he turned the car to the left, we would have gone over the embankment – rolled and possibly been incinerated, as Bob had filled up with petrol that morning. He decided to turn the car to the right, hopefully making it to the central reservation. But as the truck was coming towards us at 70 kilometres per hour, he could not avoid a collision; the truck hit my side of the car.

    All through the collision – Bob was conscious. When our car stopped spinning and ended up facing the way we had come, he looked around.

    I was unconscious and so were the two girls in the back of the car. According to Bob, I was out for forty-five minutes. When I came round, my left hand and arm was swollen. But the biggest problem was that I couldn’t hold my head up. I was in agony with my neck and shoulders.

    When the ambulance managed to get through to us, I was taken out of the car on a ‘Trauma Board.’

    X-Rays showed I had broken my first five vertebrae. The Orthopaedic Surgeon – who attended me, Mr Van der Post, told me I had had a near death experience.

    ‘If the fracture had gone on to the sixth vertebrae, you would have either died instantly or been a vegetable for the rest of your life,’ he told me.

    That was on Friday September 10th 1993, I was fifty-four.

    I didn’t walk away from that horrific accident unscathed. My neck has set with a wedge between two of my Vertebrae, this causes my head to be constantly downwards, with my chin resting on my chest.

    I’m now unable to walk outdoors for more than five feet without being in a great deal of pain.

    But, when I remember what Mr Van der Post told me – I feel so thankful to be alive.

    Why did it happen to me? I don’t know.

    I read somewhere recently that we bring these things on ourselves

    That’s something I can’t accept.

    Nevertheless, each year since that fateful day, September 10th 1993 – I have had a ‘Celebration of Life’ Day. And for the rest of the year, I wake up each day – glad to be alive, so I live each day to the full.