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It was mid-afternoon, and Jean and I were on our way home from church, (or some other place long since forgotten.) She was driving our old green 1980 something Oldsmobile; a somewhat longer vehicle than one generally sees on the road today. We were traveling at 50 MPH, or greater, and as we neared an intersecting road on our right, which was marked with a stop sign, hardly stopping a small blue car pulled into our pathway.
We could
plainly see a man and woman in the front of the car, and a little boy and girl
in the back seat. Less than 50 feet separated the two vehicles, as Jean locked
up the brakes. An accident seemed inevitable. As with so many traumatic events,
time seemed to slow down for us. (Interestingly enough, I have read that this
syndrome occurs because the brain is processing more information than usual in
the same amount of time).
It was
obvious that my wife had every intention of plowing headlong into the smaller
car, (and no doubt, all the occupants of that vehicle would have been seriously
injured or killed.) Though we were driving a much larger automobile, we also
would not have been spared. We weren’t
wearing our seatbelts.
Suddenly,
I just KNEW what I had to do.
I reached
over with my left hand, took the steering wheel from Jean, and began steering
it in a direction that would take us around the rear of the small vehicle.
Amazingly, we cleared the back bumper of the little car by a foot. Both my wife
and I found ourselves leaning hard in the direction of the drivers window.
(As a result of that event, I can relate to the G-forces the astronauts endure
as they reach maximum acceleration).
But the
ride was far from over. Our ungainly old car began a 180 degree slide.
Suddenly, the back end was where the front end was just seconds before. Now we
were sliding backwards. As the car lost momentum, we neared a wooden fence to
our left which closely bordered a house. We finally slid to a stop in a grassy
area, a few feet from the fence, very shaken, but not a scratch on either of
us.
As for
the small blue car, it was nowhere to be found. As we had continued our
surrealistic journey, we noticed it as it turned left into the opposite lanes
of the four lane highway. However, we would have NEVER expected the driver to
“keep on keeping on.” The decent thing to have done, the only thing to have
done, would have been to stop and check on our fate. But that is not what
happened.
However,
just about this time another car pulled up to the stop sign from whence the
former vehicle had come. Having seen the spectacle falling together around him,
I have no doubt that he watched the proceedings with awe. The motorist asked if
we were okay, and after we assured him we were, he drove away.
There is
an old joke, Jerry Clower used to tell, in which a hillbilly preacher was known
far and wide for his inexcusable speed on the highway. One day a friend was
driving behind “Rev. Jones,” and as “Bubba” watched the good reverend navigate
one mountain curve after another, he feared the preacher would sooner, rather
than later find himself at the bottom of a cliff.
True to his
expectation, the young man watched in horror as the minister sailed off the
side of the mountain, and down the side of the steep incline; coming to rest
upside down. Bubba slammed on brakes and came to a stop just above “the scene
of the crime.” Running down the mountain the young mountain man was amazed to
see the preacher crawl out his car window; just as the vehicle burst into
flames.
As the
good old boy ran down the mountain side, he screamed, “Preacher, Preacher, are
you okay?”
To which
the minister replied, “Well, yes, thank you, the Lord is riding with me!”
At this,
Bubba smiled a toothless smile, and responded, “Well, ya better let Him ride
with me before you kill ‘em!”
Well, I
don’t know about killing Him, but after what my wife and I experienced, in what
was nearly a fatal accident, can there be any doubt the Lord was ready to crawl
out of our car, and find someone else to ride with?
by William McDonald, PhD
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