10×10 in 2010

Guard Rail: 1, Civic: 0

It started with a snow storm.  Nothing out of the ordinary for February in Michigan, but it was coming down pretty good.  Traffic on I-75 was moving along about 40 mph, and I was in the *center* lane.

Merging on the right was a woman in a small black sporty two-door, perhaps a Saturn.  She’s coming down the on-ramp pretty quickly, and I’m watching as she passes me while still on the on-ramp.  Instead of staying in the right lane, she decides to merge right across it into the center lane.  Except that’s where I’m driving.

In retrospect I should have slowed down given the conditions, but what can you do.  To avoid her pulling into the right side of my car, I gently jog left into the passing lane.  Well, it would have been gentle if there weren’t 4″ snow ruts.

As I’m jogging left, I pass her.  Yes, after she zooms onto the highway, our instigator sloooows down…. What’s she doing as I pass her? Glaring at me, waving her left hand (large black rock in silver setting on ring finger), and clearly emitting a stream of angry obscenities.  Sigh.

About this time, that rut grabs the left front tire of the Civic and slews me sideways.  This is at roughly 35 mph in the left lane of a major interstate, with three lanes of traffic coming on behind.  I know this, because the car has now spun completely around once, and is headed for a second full rotation.

Staring into oncoming headlights in slow-motion is a positively transcendental experience.  Watching them whirl by a couple times with that approaching left guardrail thrown in steps it up to straight-on surreality.

All the while I’m putting 24+ years of driving experience to work, spinning the wheel, working the accelerator and brakes, and generally trying to avoid becoming road paste.  It seems to be working. The car is slowing down, and I get the spinning stopped; the car is even pointing the right way – south – on the highway.  Still stuck in a rut, though, and it’s pulling the car toward that impressive-looking guardrail.  Funny, they don’t look that big at 70+ mph most mornings.

Crunch.  The guardrail gives the Civic a rough tap on the left front, just to the side of the headlight.  The car stops.  I breathe.  Our instigator drives past, still in the middle lane.  Several hundred cars follow her down the road.  Was there ever a time in history when people would have stopped, or is that just my disappointment showing?  I briefly wonder if I’d have stopped.

Good fortune never ceases – there is a state police turnaround about 50 feet further on, so I edge forward on the shoulder, wondering if the car is drive-able.  It seems to be – frightening smells and sounds are distinctly absent.

Fast forward two hours, and I’m sitting here at Burger King waiting for my wife to pick me up.  The Civic is at the body shop, probably looking at $1,000 or so worth of body work to get it back on the road.

Mondays.

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