The story of how I almost died Monday.
OK well this week is off to quite a start.
So I am driving to work Monday, on the Beltline and I'm in the slow lane. I am less the 2 miles from home and I am at the Wade Ave. exit when some cocksucking, mother fucking, son of a bitch, in a brand new Landrover decides he just has to make that exit regardless of the fact he has to go through me to get there.
Well I have only been awake for about 15 minutes, I'm smoking a cigarette and not wearing my seatbelt(I know I'm a dumbass) so the first thing I do is swerve out of the way into the exit lane and slam on the brakes. Well I am still hauling at about 50mph. and there is no way in hell I can slow it down to make that exit ramp so I swerve back over onto slow lane now that Mr. Fucking Landrover has passed me.
This is where things really get interesting, I swerved too much and I am now looking at the several cars that were behind me that are now in front of me as my car is skidding backwards and a bit sideways at 40mph in the fastlane. When the smoke cleared I was still backwards but now in the median with the corner of my front bumper hanging out in the fastlane and what I thought was the whole right side of my car against the guardrail.
I then finish my cigarette.
I put the car in park and then took my foot off the brakes. I called 911 (and just as an interesting aside, it is not very comforting when it takes the 911 operator 7, yes I said 7, rings to answer the fucking phone.) I tell them I'm OK but I may need a tow truck and where I am and all that fun stuff. I then call my boss to let him know that I just may be a little late for work and what had just happened.
I then light another cigarette.
I can't open any door because I have assholes flying by at 75mph. on my drivers side and guardrail on my passenger side, so with the grace of a newborn Gazzelle, I manage to climb out the passenger window and over the guardrail.
This is the really freaky, Guardian Angel part. I go up to the badly dented gaurdrail and look down at the passenger side of my car.
I then light anonther cigarette.
I then start laughing louder then I ever have before.
There is not one single scatch on me or my car.
For the most part my car is sitting 2 inches from the guardrail, I look at the ground and see that my car was stopped by the mud in the median as the ass-end of my car was spinning toward the guardrail. I really love that mud. I looked down at the guardrail and saw that it was all fucked up because it was hit before, in the exact same spot. The rail was dented in about 8 inches back from where it should be, it looked like I parallel parked my car right where the dent in the guardrail was, a perfect fit.
Tell me that ain't some freaky shit.
I then light up another cigarette.
My boss, Carlos pulls up and parks in the median about 100ft. farther down the highway and came to see if I was OK.
We sat on the guardrail and smoked another cigarette.
The police called me back on my cell phone because they couldn't find me and asked for a decription of my car, again, I told them it was a white Chrysler Fifth Avenue, and that it happened to be the only one stuck backwards in the median of the highway at the Wade Avenue exit.
Carlos and I smoked yet another cigarette before the police actually showed up.
The police finally get there and the cop blocks off the fastlane and comes to check on me and see what happened. I tell him what happened and then he stops traffic in the rest of the lanes on that side of the highway so I can pull a U-turn and get down the exit ramp.
My friend Tony happened to be driving by and said to himself "Holy shit, that's Matt talking to the police and his car is backwards in the median". He stops on the shoulder and calls my cell phone to see if me and my car were OK. I told him me and my car were, by a remarkable series of coincidences, perfectly fine. Tony drives off and I pull a U-turn in the middle of the highway. The Cop and I took care of the report and all that fun stuff down on the safety of the exit ramp.
I didn't get a ticket or anything and if it wasn't for the the people that were there, the police report, and me running the whole thing through my head for the last 2 days and trying to figure out why I'm still alive, it's like it never even happened at all.
Oh yeah, that Yuppie scum-fuck in the Landrover, he saw what happened, almost stopped and then floored it down the exit ramp never to be seen again. He better pray every single day for the rest of his life that I in fact never do see him again.
I got to work almost 2 hours late, I didn't get in trouble, I love my boss.
I have run everything that happened through my head a few hundred times by now and I just don't know why I am still alive, let alone not hurt in any way and my car is not damaged in any way. I don't know why that fucking Landrover didn't hit me, I don't know why I didn't go straight off the exit ramp and staight into that guardrail or down the 25ft. embankment. I don't know how my car spun out in the middle of the highway in heavy traffic and didn't hit any other car.
If the temperature of my cars tires was any warmer I would have flipped it, alot, I should have flipped it. If the mud in the median was any wetter or any dryer it wouldn't have stoped my car. If that one little section of guardrail had not been hit before, my car wouldn't have landed so perfectly right in it.
This incedent marks about the fourth time I should have died but didn't. I guess this Cat only has about 5 more lives left.
I'm still pretty scaterbrained about the whole thing but I guess it is life's little way of saying "take it easy, will ya".
I like to believe that a man only dies when it his time or he has it comming.
Either way, I'm still here!
So I am driving to work Monday, on the Beltline and I'm in the slow lane. I am less the 2 miles from home and I am at the Wade Ave. exit when some cocksucking, mother fucking, son of a bitch, in a brand new Landrover decides he just has to make that exit regardless of the fact he has to go through me to get there.
Well I have only been awake for about 15 minutes, I'm smoking a cigarette and not wearing my seatbelt(I know I'm a dumbass) so the first thing I do is swerve out of the way into the exit lane and slam on the brakes. Well I am still hauling at about 50mph. and there is no way in hell I can slow it down to make that exit ramp so I swerve back over onto slow lane now that Mr. Fucking Landrover has passed me.
This is where things really get interesting, I swerved too much and I am now looking at the several cars that were behind me that are now in front of me as my car is skidding backwards and a bit sideways at 40mph in the fastlane. When the smoke cleared I was still backwards but now in the median with the corner of my front bumper hanging out in the fastlane and what I thought was the whole right side of my car against the guardrail.
I then finish my cigarette.
I put the car in park and then took my foot off the brakes. I called 911 (and just as an interesting aside, it is not very comforting when it takes the 911 operator 7, yes I said 7, rings to answer the fucking phone.) I tell them I'm OK but I may need a tow truck and where I am and all that fun stuff. I then call my boss to let him know that I just may be a little late for work and what had just happened.
I then light another cigarette.
I can't open any door because I have assholes flying by at 75mph. on my drivers side and guardrail on my passenger side, so with the grace of a newborn Gazzelle, I manage to climb out the passenger window and over the guardrail.
This is the really freaky, Guardian Angel part. I go up to the badly dented gaurdrail and look down at the passenger side of my car.
I then light anonther cigarette.
I then start laughing louder then I ever have before.
There is not one single scatch on me or my car.
For the most part my car is sitting 2 inches from the guardrail, I look at the ground and see that my car was stopped by the mud in the median as the ass-end of my car was spinning toward the guardrail. I really love that mud. I looked down at the guardrail and saw that it was all fucked up because it was hit before, in the exact same spot. The rail was dented in about 8 inches back from where it should be, it looked like I parallel parked my car right where the dent in the guardrail was, a perfect fit.
Tell me that ain't some freaky shit.
I then light up another cigarette.
My boss, Carlos pulls up and parks in the median about 100ft. farther down the highway and came to see if I was OK.
We sat on the guardrail and smoked another cigarette.
The police called me back on my cell phone because they couldn't find me and asked for a decription of my car, again, I told them it was a white Chrysler Fifth Avenue, and that it happened to be the only one stuck backwards in the median of the highway at the Wade Avenue exit.
Carlos and I smoked yet another cigarette before the police actually showed up.
The police finally get there and the cop blocks off the fastlane and comes to check on me and see what happened. I tell him what happened and then he stops traffic in the rest of the lanes on that side of the highway so I can pull a U-turn and get down the exit ramp.
My friend Tony happened to be driving by and said to himself "Holy shit, that's Matt talking to the police and his car is backwards in the median". He stops on the shoulder and calls my cell phone to see if me and my car were OK. I told him me and my car were, by a remarkable series of coincidences, perfectly fine. Tony drives off and I pull a U-turn in the middle of the highway. The Cop and I took care of the report and all that fun stuff down on the safety of the exit ramp.
I didn't get a ticket or anything and if it wasn't for the the people that were there, the police report, and me running the whole thing through my head for the last 2 days and trying to figure out why I'm still alive, it's like it never even happened at all.
Oh yeah, that Yuppie scum-fuck in the Landrover, he saw what happened, almost stopped and then floored it down the exit ramp never to be seen again. He better pray every single day for the rest of his life that I in fact never do see him again.
I got to work almost 2 hours late, I didn't get in trouble, I love my boss.
I have run everything that happened through my head a few hundred times by now and I just don't know why I am still alive, let alone not hurt in any way and my car is not damaged in any way. I don't know why that fucking Landrover didn't hit me, I don't know why I didn't go straight off the exit ramp and staight into that guardrail or down the 25ft. embankment. I don't know how my car spun out in the middle of the highway in heavy traffic and didn't hit any other car.
If the temperature of my cars tires was any warmer I would have flipped it, alot, I should have flipped it. If the mud in the median was any wetter or any dryer it wouldn't have stoped my car. If that one little section of guardrail had not been hit before, my car wouldn't have landed so perfectly right in it.
This incedent marks about the fourth time I should have died but didn't. I guess this Cat only has about 5 more lives left.
I'm still pretty scaterbrained about the whole thing but I guess it is life's little way of saying "take it easy, will ya".
I like to believe that a man only dies when it his time or he has it comming.
Either way, I'm still here!