Seconds and Second Chances

It was June. The sun was bright. The air fresh. Looking forward to a pleasant drive. 250 miles on the interstate. I’d driven this highway dozens of times. Houston to Dallas. I’m from Houston, but I live in Dallas now.  Four and a half hours and I’ll be home with my wife.

I had been visiting my brother, not for pleasantries; mostly out of fear and a desire to help. My younger brother – Arthur’s his name – his kidneys were failing. I went down first to see if there was anything I could do to help, and foremost, because I worried I may not see him again. Arthur has end stage kidney disease. He’s waiting for a kidney donor, but in the meantime he didn’t seem to be getting the advice he thought he needed from dietitians. He knew I had lost a lot of weight on a regimented, healthy food plan and he asked me to give him some guidance. I spent some time researching what kidney disease patients can eat and I brought some kidney-healthy foods with me. I had a great time being with my brother and our sister, but I was ready to get home to my wife.

I left early. I was on Interstate 45, about half way there. Traffic was moving at the posted 75 mile an hour speed limit. I was in the left lane passing cars in the right. I left a good distance between me and the car in front, just in case – when the car two cars ahead decided to make an unexpected u-turn in the “emergency vehicles only” lane. It was not an emergency vehicle!

The car in front of me had not left a lot of space between them and the car in front of them, so when they suddenly turned left to make a u-turn, he slammed on his brakes and his car started turning sideways in my lane!

I wasn’t real concerned. I had plenty of distance between us, enough that I should be able to stop without substantial damage. I started to put my foot on my brake, then noticed in my rear view mirror all I could see was the grill of a big truck. Did I mention I drive a Toyota Prius?

I realized I couldn’t brake or I’d end up a “Prius creme sandwich” between the truck behind me and the car in front of me. I looked to the left and saw I couldn’t go there, I’d hit the car that had been turning left to make the u-turn. I couldn’t go straight or put my brakes on or I’d be shoved into the car turning sideways in front of me.

I thought maybe I can pull over into the right lane. I looked to my right and there was an eighteen-wheeler beside me. There was no way out.  I was going to die. I was okay with that. I was at peace. I was ready to meet my Maker.  I was surprised that I really wasn’t angry, upset or fearful. And all of this was happening in seconds.

Then I thought, I really would like to live, but how? My best chance for any survival was a billiards bank shot with my car as the cue ball. If I move to my right and hit the eighteen-wheeler, I just might ricochet into the grassy median, and maybe, just maybe, survive for six months to a year of rehab. It was my only choice … I wanted to live, no matter the physical price or pain! I would choose life as a paraplegic over death.

Holding my breath, I slowly began to ease my way into the right lane, waiting to hear metal scraping metal at any moment and be thrust into a game of Prius pinball on I-45. I got closer and closer to the car in front of me that by then was completely sideways and blocking my lane. There was an eerie quiet. A calm. I looked to my left … the “u-turning” car had made their turn safely, oblivious to the situation they had helped create. The car in front of me; the one sideways blocking the left lane – was so close I could have reached out the window and touched their trunk as I went by.

Moments later I was through the death trap without a scratch, ding or dent. I kept listening for a crash of the other vehicles, watching in my rear view mirror for calamity and catastrophe, but nothing. The eighteen-wheeler beside me had inched over and straddled the emergency shoulder while I threaded the needle to heaven and escaped. All of those behind us followed suit. We were like a flock of birds changing course in the middle of flight. Who knows what guides the birds to turn? All the other vehicles moved to the right to avoid the potential collision and then gracefully, seamlessly, peacefully moved back to the left.

I was shaken. Grateful to be alive.

I looked at the compact disk I’d been playing on the way home. I’d never listened to it before and had thought about leaving it for my brother, but it was a spiritual CD and that would probably have been a little much for him, so I stuck it in the player, thinking what the heck, I’ll see what it had to say?  …   the name of the CD? Trust in One, and Don’t Fear.  I cried. I was so fortunate. That summed it up. I thought that was the end of the lesson. 

It took another four hours to get back to Dallas. It normally would only have taken two.  I called my wife to tell her not to call me, I was going to be driving. That should have alerted her that something happened, since I never have told her that before. For the rest of the trip I was pulling over to breathe and relax and call friends, telling some of my narrow escape and deliverance. As far as I was concerned, God had parted the Red Sea of vehicles for me to drive through on dry land and the Israelite vehicles had followed suit. It was nothing short of a miracle.

I called my brother, Arthur. I told him what had happened and his response was that he always drives in the right lane … “there’s a war going on in the left lane!” He said his wife and sons chide and laugh at him for driving in the slow lane. He said, “next time you’re driving, look at the cars in the left lane. They’re at war with one another. And you’ll get to have a front row seat and not be involved in their drama.”

“In the left lane, drivers are aggressive. They’re tailgating, jockeying for position, shooting glares at each another, using hand gestures, horns and flashing lights … all to get somewhere 10 minutes earlier – if they don’t have a heart attack or accident first. Drive in the right lane, you can relax, breathe, take your time and even enjoy the ride.”

I realized my brother had given me another lesson. I mentioned earlier I lost weight, over 100 pounds. That was without surgery, pills or even exercise. I am in a twelve-step program for overeating that is patterned after Alcoholics Anonymous. Why would I tell you about that?

Now when I drive in the left lane – and I still do sometimes, I’m not perfect – I feel my heart beating and my pulse quicken, I become more agitated, restless and irritable, even angry, and if I just ease over into the right lane, I’m much more relaxed.

So now when I’m on the highway I liken the traffic in the left lane to be the lane of the disease of excess – excess speed, food, alcohol, spending – and the right lane, the right lane is the lane of recovery – peace, joy, serenity. I’m grateful to be alive today, for precious seconds and second chances to share this story. Maybe next time you’re driving the highways, you’ll think about the War in the Left Lane and the sanity, serenity and peace in the right, and move over – not because of red flashing lights in your rear view mirror, but because you resign from the War in the Left Lane.