Second Chance
Finally, after four days without accessing the Internet, I am back in service, alive and kicking! Now I feel is the time for me to exercise all my (minimal) talents of story-telling, because I surely have a decent story to tell this time.
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I have not realized how precious life is until recently. I have always entertained the thought of dying without taking it seriously. As young as I am, I feel as if I am invincible, as heart attacks, diabetes, and cancers happen to everybody else, even though I am obese and histories of these diseases run in the family. I thought about suicide, not thinking of doing it, mind you, but the circumstances that push a person to do so. I have been reading too much F. Sionil Jose and the story of one Tony Samson, achieving much in material wealth but losing principle, resulting in an internal conflict so tumultuous it culminates in his taking of his own life. From "The Pretenders" I saw his death (cowardly I deem it) leave an impression on those who knew him much, yet the lessons learned did not fully sink in. I have not appreciated what death was, its nature and its significance. Now I see my error, that death and life are not only facts of life but life-changing experiences. I just had a near-death experience, and that was one wake-up call I could not ignore.
Tuesday afternoon, my father and I were on our way home from Bayombong, where we just left a meeting of some business matters we had. We were traveling along the Maharlika Highway, and just passed Sta. Fe, the last municipality before reaching the provincial boundary between Nueva Vizcaya and Nueva Ecija. At the right uphill turn in Km. 211+600, a ten-wheeler truck crossed the yellow line and encroached in our lane. At this juncture, we were probably traversing the same road doing forty kilometers per hour. We were going at a good rate of speed on the straight road sections earlier, but when it came to the twisty mountain roads of the Balete Pass, to go past 50 would be ludicrous. The driver in the 10W later admitted to me verbally that he was going down the mountain at probably the same speed. In a split second, with no time to act, this happened:
We collided head-on with the 10W. If you have been listening to high school Physics as attentively as I was, you would know that the greater the mass an object has, the more it tends to resist change in motion. The Nissan Patrol, as hefty as it is, was no match for the substantially massive Isuzu. We were pushed back a few meters until I had the presence of mind to apply the handbrake. With Allah's good graces, my father suffered only contusions on where the belt was mounted on his lower belly and a bit of a bump on his left knee. I, however, went out without a scratch. The driver of the 10W surrendered himself to the police, and as per my knowledge, is still detained, pending payment of his jail bond, instated because we have filed charges against him and the owner of the vehicle. But I bear no ill will against the poor man - we filed the case so that the lady would be more willing to help us shoulder the damages.
My father and I checked in seemingly Sta. Fe's only hotel, to spend the night there. My father, however, started to complain about severe pains in his waist area at around 9:00PM. Asking the locals still awake at that hour revealed the nearest hospital being back in Bambang, a mere fifty kilometers away. With the Patrol wrecked up the mountain road, we had no choice but to catch a passing bus bound northward. I think it was an agonizing hour's ride for my old man, but I could not do anything but recite all the suras that I knew. At his age, he is not as strong as he used to be, but he took the pain well. We arrived at the Emergency Room of the Nueva Vizcaya Provincial Hospital Bambang at close to midnight, and I was very much worried about my dad suffering internal bleeding from the crash. Fortunately, it was just contusions. He were discharged the next day.
During my dad's hospital stay, he told me to follow up on the police report from the Sta. Fe Station. I had no choice but to take two jeepneys and spend two hours to travel back there, only to arrive and find out that the OIC and the 10W owner was already with my dad in the hospital, fifty kilometers away in Bambang! I then took another bus, traveling for an hour and a half back to Bambang. Now, being spoiled and used to driving a car while going around Manila, this was a bit unsettling for me at first, this commuting from town to town in public transportation, but when there is no other way, I think all of us find inner strength and courage to press on regardless. I felt I have proven myself capable and responsible, even though the trip to and fro turned out to be pointless. I now feel I can do anything.
My dad and I were itching to return back home, but we did not want to leave the car behind. We deemed it imperative to find someone willing to tow the car all the way to Manila. Thankfully, one of the Sta. Fe policemen brought with him a guy from Bambang who was willing to pull the car the whole 250+km distance. We finally left the beautiful countryside of Nueva Vizcaya on the dead of night, traveling at what seemed like a snails pace, the Elf truck struggling to pull the Patrol over the Balete Pass. I thought we would be able to get back by six 'o clock in the morning, but the tow truck and Patrol got unshackled several times in Bulacan; we encountered traffic at Plaridel and Meycauayan; we got apprehended by coppers in C5; and, while in the very last stretch of the journey at the West Service Road of the SLEX, a 4-wheeler Elf sideswiped us and caused the tow truck to lose control. Those sixteen hours were the absolute worst times of the whole journey. I saw the lack of road safety, desolation of businesses along the Maharlika, the denseness of Meycauayan, the corruption of police, the poor tarmac conditions of secondary routes, and the appaling road mannerisms of some drivers. I saw the bleakness that I would not have seen if we still had the Patrol in one piece.
Now I am back home, using my dependable but hopelessly slow laptop, surfing the Internet, posting at the usual automotive message boards, doing the things that I usually do. I am thankful that I can still life my life like before. I am thankful that my dad is still here, in a bit of pain but otherwise intact. Things could have gone horribly wrong at Km 211+600. If the 10W was loaded with grain, it could pancake everything in its path, even the Tank. If we were using a smaller car (I was lobbying that we should use my small Hyundai Getz), we would be crushed like an egg. If we were hit at a different angle, we could have careened down the ravine. Luckily every possible variable added up to survival.
I honestly feel as if I have been given a second chance, a new lease in life. The question is: Where do I go from here?
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New website (under construction) - www.lantraluvr.com
Heck Ya! I just purchased my own domain name. Wait 'till I get it fully operational!
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I have not realized how precious life is until recently. I have always entertained the thought of dying without taking it seriously. As young as I am, I feel as if I am invincible, as heart attacks, diabetes, and cancers happen to everybody else, even though I am obese and histories of these diseases run in the family. I thought about suicide, not thinking of doing it, mind you, but the circumstances that push a person to do so. I have been reading too much F. Sionil Jose and the story of one Tony Samson, achieving much in material wealth but losing principle, resulting in an internal conflict so tumultuous it culminates in his taking of his own life. From "The Pretenders" I saw his death (cowardly I deem it) leave an impression on those who knew him much, yet the lessons learned did not fully sink in. I have not appreciated what death was, its nature and its significance. Now I see my error, that death and life are not only facts of life but life-changing experiences. I just had a near-death experience, and that was one wake-up call I could not ignore.
Tuesday afternoon, my father and I were on our way home from Bayombong, where we just left a meeting of some business matters we had. We were traveling along the Maharlika Highway, and just passed Sta. Fe, the last municipality before reaching the provincial boundary between Nueva Vizcaya and Nueva Ecija. At the right uphill turn in Km. 211+600, a ten-wheeler truck crossed the yellow line and encroached in our lane. At this juncture, we were probably traversing the same road doing forty kilometers per hour. We were going at a good rate of speed on the straight road sections earlier, but when it came to the twisty mountain roads of the Balete Pass, to go past 50 would be ludicrous. The driver in the 10W later admitted to me verbally that he was going down the mountain at probably the same speed. In a split second, with no time to act, this happened:
We collided head-on with the 10W. If you have been listening to high school Physics as attentively as I was, you would know that the greater the mass an object has, the more it tends to resist change in motion. The Nissan Patrol, as hefty as it is, was no match for the substantially massive Isuzu. We were pushed back a few meters until I had the presence of mind to apply the handbrake. With Allah's good graces, my father suffered only contusions on where the belt was mounted on his lower belly and a bit of a bump on his left knee. I, however, went out without a scratch. The driver of the 10W surrendered himself to the police, and as per my knowledge, is still detained, pending payment of his jail bond, instated because we have filed charges against him and the owner of the vehicle. But I bear no ill will against the poor man - we filed the case so that the lady would be more willing to help us shoulder the damages.
My father and I checked in seemingly Sta. Fe's only hotel, to spend the night there. My father, however, started to complain about severe pains in his waist area at around 9:00PM. Asking the locals still awake at that hour revealed the nearest hospital being back in Bambang, a mere fifty kilometers away. With the Patrol wrecked up the mountain road, we had no choice but to catch a passing bus bound northward. I think it was an agonizing hour's ride for my old man, but I could not do anything but recite all the suras that I knew. At his age, he is not as strong as he used to be, but he took the pain well. We arrived at the Emergency Room of the Nueva Vizcaya Provincial Hospital Bambang at close to midnight, and I was very much worried about my dad suffering internal bleeding from the crash. Fortunately, it was just contusions. He were discharged the next day.
During my dad's hospital stay, he told me to follow up on the police report from the Sta. Fe Station. I had no choice but to take two jeepneys and spend two hours to travel back there, only to arrive and find out that the OIC and the 10W owner was already with my dad in the hospital, fifty kilometers away in Bambang! I then took another bus, traveling for an hour and a half back to Bambang. Now, being spoiled and used to driving a car while going around Manila, this was a bit unsettling for me at first, this commuting from town to town in public transportation, but when there is no other way, I think all of us find inner strength and courage to press on regardless. I felt I have proven myself capable and responsible, even though the trip to and fro turned out to be pointless. I now feel I can do anything.
My dad and I were itching to return back home, but we did not want to leave the car behind. We deemed it imperative to find someone willing to tow the car all the way to Manila. Thankfully, one of the Sta. Fe policemen brought with him a guy from Bambang who was willing to pull the car the whole 250+km distance. We finally left the beautiful countryside of Nueva Vizcaya on the dead of night, traveling at what seemed like a snails pace, the Elf truck struggling to pull the Patrol over the Balete Pass. I thought we would be able to get back by six 'o clock in the morning, but the tow truck and Patrol got unshackled several times in Bulacan; we encountered traffic at Plaridel and Meycauayan; we got apprehended by coppers in C5; and, while in the very last stretch of the journey at the West Service Road of the SLEX, a 4-wheeler Elf sideswiped us and caused the tow truck to lose control. Those sixteen hours were the absolute worst times of the whole journey. I saw the lack of road safety, desolation of businesses along the Maharlika, the denseness of Meycauayan, the corruption of police, the poor tarmac conditions of secondary routes, and the appaling road mannerisms of some drivers. I saw the bleakness that I would not have seen if we still had the Patrol in one piece.
Now I am back home, using my dependable but hopelessly slow laptop, surfing the Internet, posting at the usual automotive message boards, doing the things that I usually do. I am thankful that I can still life my life like before. I am thankful that my dad is still here, in a bit of pain but otherwise intact. Things could have gone horribly wrong at Km 211+600. If the 10W was loaded with grain, it could pancake everything in its path, even the Tank. If we were using a smaller car (I was lobbying that we should use my small Hyundai Getz), we would be crushed like an egg. If we were hit at a different angle, we could have careened down the ravine. Luckily every possible variable added up to survival.
I honestly feel as if I have been given a second chance, a new lease in life. The question is: Where do I go from here?
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New website (under construction) - www.lantraluvr.com
Heck Ya! I just purchased my own domain name. Wait 'till I get it fully operational!