The Zone of Imminent Catastrophe

Our tire ripped apart on the way to Gallup today.

But that’s not even the meat of today’s events. Earlier, I thought I was dead for sure.

In my haste to get to work, I sped past a group of slow cars on the freeway. I got in the far right lane to get to my turn-off, and found myself in a zone of imminent catastrophe.

This type of thing happens all the time; where you see a terrible mishap coming for you (sometimes slowly), but no matter what decision you make, there is no escaping it. I like to relate it to the times in elementary school, when I’d be facing a kid who was kicking the soccer ball, and helplessly watch the ball get bigger and bigger till I’d see stars.

Anyway, on the freeway, a semi-truck with no trailer was clearly losing control. By the time I’d realized that the truck was skidding at a 45 degree angle, he was pointed straight towards me, having sped my car straight into his death zone.

Of course, my initial reaction was to slam on my brakes when I saw the entire freeway at the mercy of this monumental clumsy machine. But that only positioned my little 4-cylinder Honda deep into his magnetized circle of destruction.

But I was lucky. I suppose the anti-sleep auto-pilot must have kicked in and recovered for him. The semi-truck straightened out only moments before I saw the left half of my body swallowed by my car door.

Yeah, that was crazy, but when our work truck started fish-tailing on the way to Gallup, I thought for sure the Final Destination demon was chasing me.