On Monday there was a horrific head-on collision between two
semi trucks at the intersection of San Felipe Road and Highway 156.
I happened to drive by about an hour after it happened.
I knew it wasn’t just an ordinary fender-bender when I saw the
number and variety of emergency vehicles: three fire trucks, five
assorted patrol cars, and a helicopter.
On Monday there was a horrific head-on collision between two semi trucks at the intersection of San Felipe Road and Highway 156. I happened to drive by about an hour after it happened.
I knew it wasn’t just an ordinary fender-bender when I saw the number and variety of emergency vehicles: three fire trucks, five assorted patrol cars, and a helicopter.
The trailer on its side halfway off Highway 156 was another clue.
As I write, there is still no definitive answer as to what happened. Neither speed nor alcohol seem to have been factors. Both drivers, one turning left, the other going straight in the opposite direction, seemed to have thought they had the right of way, and so did witnesses following each of the trucks.
Apparently both drivers, while seriously injured, are going to recover. I hope so. Neither one of them probably woke up and thought “tonight I’ll be on the evening news,” but that is what happened.
The incident illustrates how fragile “normal everyday life” really is. We never know which innocent bit of carelessness, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, will change our lives.
For example, one February Sunday afternoon about six years ago I was driving home to Hollister from Palo Alto. It had been raining, but at the time it was just cloudy and the roads were slightly damp.
As I drove south on Highway 85 near the Almaden Expressway exit, in the fast lane, going 65 or maybe 70, there were other cars on the road but traffic was fairly light.
Then, over to the right, I saw that the car in the middle lane that was slightly ahead of me was about to be hit by a Thunderbird skidding diagonally in the wrong direction.
“That doesn’t look right,” I remember thinking.
Next thing I knew, the Thunderbird was headed for my right front fender. I perceived that the impact sent me airborne and that I would go over the guard rail and onto the pavement below. I thought “I guess I’m going to die but I just hope it doesn’t hurt too much.”
When I regained consciousness, I was still on the same road. The interior of the car seemed to be smoking and my glasses were missing.
A young woman with a cell phone was walking toward me asking if I was all right. She wanted me to stay in the car but the smoke, which I realized later was only residue from the airbag detonation, made me want to get out FAST.
I found my glasses and went to stand by the guard rail. It seemed the police and fire trucks were there almost immediately. They were strapping the occupants of the first car onto boards to load them into the ambulances.
The driver of the other car was a middle-aged woman much like myself who apparently had gone too fast up a slippery on-ramp and lost control.
Aside from some airbag rash and a couple of bruises, I was fine. However, my car, a red Chrysler Le Baron convertible that my folks had handed down to me, was totaled, and that was pretty tough to take.
I was, and am, grateful that I wasn’t injured. The hassles that followed – negotiating with the insurance company, retrieving my stuff from the Chrysler, finding a new car, were pretty minor in the scheme of things.
What has changed is that I never again have taken safety and routine for granted. I have seen first hand how in the time it takes to glance at the radio, reach for a sip of your coffee or even just turn to the person riding with you, fate can come barreling at you the the guise of another driver.
