Long drive home

Last Friday was, by far, the worst driving day of my life. My trip from Northwest Indiana to Atlanta had all of the ingredients of a terrible day: witnessing a car accident, having significant delays due to four other accidents, two unexpected complete road closures thanks to construction, unmarked detours, limited options for potty breaks because of COVID, and just an overall long-ass drive. By the time I got home at almost 1am I was beyond exhausted, emotional, and a frazzled mess. I have forced myself to really process the day, my new-found driving anxiety, and the people I share this Earth with.

On Monday I ventured to my hometown of Schererville, Indiana to help my brother with some of the chaos connected to my dad’s estate, a nightmare since his passing on Easter Sunday of this year. The most critical point on the agenda was for me to pick up my dad’s car, a 2019 Subaru Outback and a total upgrade from my 2012 VW Golf. This meant driving my car to Indiana, selling it there, and driving my dad’s car back home to Atlanta. Although the thought of driving alone for 11 hours sounded a bit boring, I was motivated by the result of coming home with an (almost) new car. Thankfully, the drive to Indiana was smooth, uneventful, and steady--so much so that I was able to stop off in West Lafayette to pick up a new array of Purdue swag before continuing on to my destination. Boiler up!

In contrast, the ride home could not have been any more different. I started the day slightly later than I had hoped at 10:30am. Knowing that I had a long day ahead of me, I wanted to make sure I didn’t set out too late so that I could arrive home before I started to get sleepy and lose concentration. I had a few errands to run to tie up some loose ends, and then I was ready for the highway. The route is fairly uncomplicated: 15 minutes to get to the highway, change highways two times, and then 10 minutes from the highway in Atlanta before reaching home.

Just after 11am I was already merging onto the interstate and hoping for a return trip as smooth as my initial journey. I-65 extends nearly 900 miles from Lake Michigan in Gary, Indiana to the Gulf of Mexico in Mobile, Alabama. Needless to say, this is a heavily-traveled roadway. The Indiana portion, in particular the section between Indianapolis and Gary, has long been known as a dangerous stretch due to heavy semi-truck traffic, slippery conditions in rain and snow, and a slew of distracted and/or inconsiderate drivers. Yesterday was no exception.

Not more than 10 minutes after pulling on to I-65, I witnessed one of the most horrific sights of my life. Just past the Indiana State Police Post in Lowell, I was traveling with a loose cluster of cars and trucks at a steady 70-75 mph pace. I was driving in the far left lane of the three-lane road when the car in front of me swerved to avoid a large piece of tire tread in the middle of the lane. This was one of those moments where I was glad I was not following too close behind. I was able to react in plenty of time. I calmly put my blinker on and switched to the middle lane. Unnecessary damage to my new car was perfectly avoided.

Unfortunately, the car behind me was not so lucky. Something told me to look in my rearview mirror to make sure the driver behind me would also easily pass by the debris. What should have been just a quick glance turned into me watching a slow motion scene from a Hollywood action film. The small black car behind me came up directly on the piece of rubber in the left lane, and although she was also not following close behind me, she abruptly and exaggeratedly swerved to the right. The dramatic hard right turn caused the car to sail across the middle lane, perpendicular to the flow of traffic, and straight into another small silver car in the right lane. The collision itself was mortifying to watch. However, it didn’t end there. The impact from the black car caused both cars to fly into the air. It appeared as if the black car hit the driver’s side of the silver car low enough that it scooped the silver car up with its nose. Both cars were airborne for what felt like eternity, and as they came back to Earth they rolled off the road. I lost view after that point, but did see several cars pull over, hopefully to offer assistance.

I was now stuck in a group of cars who surely had seen or perhaps heard the series of events no one could have anticipated. By the way, I heard nothing. I had been talking to my friend Ryan on the phone at the moment so many lives changed in an instant. All I could do was scream. I couldn’t even tell him what was going on. He sat on the phone more than 200 miles away, helpless and unsure what had happened. Later I found out he thought I had been the one in the accident. I weighed all possible options. Should I stop? No, that will cause more confusion, more congestion. Besides, there have been countless accidents in that very stretch of the highway where vehicles on the roadway ran over drivers parked on the side of the road. Should I call 911? No, the lines are probably flooded. There were so many people on the road. They could surely provide a better account of what happened. Afterall, I had witnessed the accident from a rearview mirror which was causing heavy cognitive processing as I thought about what really was left/right and front/back. Through a weird flow of intermittent tears I told Ryan what I had witnessed. Every few seconds the images reappeared in my mind and so did the nausea. Eventually Ryan was able to convince me to pull over at the next rest area, about 10 miles south of the accident site.

I processed again what I saw and continued to debate calling the State Police to let them know I witnessed the accident. As I continued to wrap my brain around the constant replay, I texted my brother. He always wants to know about any excitement. He and Ryan both implored me to officially give my account of events. As this could be a fatal accident with possible criminal charges filed, the authorities would need multiple witness statements to corroborate each of the drivers’ stories. I hung up with Ryan, called the police, and left a message with the receptionist that I could be contacted if necessary. This seemed like the most human thing to do.

I continued my trip with a peculiar combination of focus and distraction. I was driving very cautiously and only exceeding the speed limit to pass other vehicles. I would occasionally menatally slip back into the accident scene. I was pretty sure that the driver of the silver car could have never survived such a strong impact or the several flips after falling so hard from the sky. I thought about this precious unknown life. Who else was in each of the cars? Are they OK? Who else was impacted? The friends and families are finding out about their loved ones. This affected me deeply. I was so curious how everyone was. I had asked Chris and Ryan to keep an eye on the internet for any news about updates while I tried to make it back to Atlanta safely.

About two hours after first calling the police, I received a call back. The officer was incredibly nice and patient as I continued sorting through my emotions. He instantly reassured me that everyone involved was going to be just fine with the exception of some scratches and bruises. Everyone in both vehicles was transferred to a nearby hospital for exams and were waiting to be released. There had been an infant in the silver car who came away unscathed from what was almost a great tragedy. (Thank you, God, for the engineers who know what makes a car seat most effective.) Miraculously, the dog of the young woman in the car behind me had been ejected at some point and had also not suffered any major injuries. Considering how the accident happened and all of the other drivers on the road, this could have been a story for the news for days, weeks, or months. This could have been a worst case scenario outcome. Instead it was absolutely the best possible outcome. I will never forget this.

I recounted my version of events as I saw them unfold behind me to the officer on the phone. He was very happy to have a witness from a different angle because no one else had seen the rubber tire piece in the road. Upon investigation he had found the rubber piece on the shoulder, but didn’t know it had actually been in the middle of the left lane. He also learned from me that the driver of the black car likely had had plenty of time to react appropriately to the tire, just as the cars before her did. She may have been distracted or misjudged her speed and distance. Either way, I was glad I called. It was a needed exchange of information. I thanked the officer repeatedly for the update and breathed a sigh of relief.

The rest of the trip, for some similar and some very different reasons, continued to cost me my physical and emotional strength. As is par for the course on a road trip, numerous drivers were impatient, reckless, and had a total lack of regard for all other drivers or the driving laws. I started to really sink into deep reflection mode as the lonely ride didn’t give me much else to do. The most impactful revelation was how much trust we carry in our fellow drivers on the road. We trust that they will drive a steady pace within a reasonable speed range, using appropriate signals when they change lanes or witness something needing a reaction from all other drivers. We trust that the drivers are fully alert and concentrating on road conditions as well as their own driving skills. We trust that they are anticipating traffic and unexpected interferences as we are taught to do.

I grew more and more disappointed as I watched car after car and truck after truck race past everyone, often in the right lane, causing unnecessary braking on the highway at excessive speeds. I watched in horror as cars repeatedly competed in impromptu drag races with strangers in straightaways and curving mountain paths alike. In two separate areas of Tennessee (Nashville and Knoxville) I was forced to exit the highway and suffer my way through unexpected and unmarked detours. It was clear that many travelers were surprised by the full road closures. In Nashville at 7pm, merging 5 lanes of traffic into one exit ramp caused pure chaos, a lot of aggravation, and pretty severe cases of road rage that I prayed would not escalate. In Knoxville at 10pm, GPS was not providing me with the security I needed. On several occasions I was led in the wrong direction or to another road closure. Essentially I needed to bypass I-24 and wind through local streets to re-enter the highway in Georgia on I-75. As I drove the speed limit, carefully watching my GPS constantly re-route me to the next left turn or in one instance decide 20th Street would be better than 25th Street, cars honked, sped around me only to meet again at the next stoplight. The hostility was intense and, although my Indiana plates indicated I was not from the area, I observed a lack of patience and understanding.

After entering Georgia with construction, dark streets, and a slew of wild drivers enjoying an adrenaline-filled Friday night, I happened upon another accident. This time it appeared that one car had slammed into a wall and bounced off. Fire trucks, ambulances, and police car lights were incredibly bright giving everyone the signal to slow down. In fact, several lanes were shut down to clear the scene. In two lanes, we all crept by. I was curious about the situation and wondered if that car had been one that I had seen earlier fighting to prove its speed potential or immortal status. However, I did not recognize the car. To be honest, I could barely recognize that the heap of metal had ever been a car. It was the two back tires that gave the only clue.

I kept thinking: If these people had seen what I saw at the outset of my trip, they would most definitely think twice about their ridiculous and selfish driving. I was sure that this second horrific scene would be a deterrent from here on out. I knew I was gripping the wheel extra tight. Alas, I was wrong.

The very second the cars broke free of the emergency crew lights, they launched down the highway with even more determination. They were invincible and everyone around them had better be ready. In the two hours on the Georgia highway, I saw three accidents. Each one eating away at my nerves and increasing my disgust for my fellow humans. By the time I reached the heart of Atlanta and was one exit away from home, I was unable to think straight. I desperately needed these last 7 minutes to be smooth and safe.

Just as I had that thought, I once again saw flashing lights and heard a roar of sirens. The open road closed in and traffic came to a screeching halt. Cars were frantically changing lanes and jockeying for the best position to either pass what appeared to be yet another serious accident or to exit the highway earlier than anticipated. Cars and trucks were cutting each other off, honking, and bullying their way through the confusing scene. I opted to exit just ¾ of a mile before my ramp. As I did, I witnessed cars racing by on the shoulder, many were squeezing into unnoticeable gaps in front of as many cars as possible, and trucks even used their 4-wheel drive to catapult themselves up the grassy incline in order to get ahead of nearly every other vehicle trying to escape the frantic disorganization. I had no idea in which direction to go. I just wanted to get away from everyone and everything. As I saw most cars turning left at the top of the ramp, attempting to get back on the highway at the exit just after the accident, I refused to follow. Ironically, although I was desperate to park my car at home and declare myself safe as soon as possible, I also needed to get a grip on my sanity and be alone on the road. I drove straight ahead.

As I drove the first few blocks, only three of us had decided to weave ourselves through the city on our own. I felt a sense of comradery with these strangers. They needed what I needed. We all had outsmarted the crazies in the city. The road forked and a left turn was no longer avoidable, and honestly, a left would be the only way I would eventually reach home. We all three turned left. We were the lone rangers on this quiet street, blocks away from an antithetical scene. We calmly drove on. Alone.

At the very moment when I felt the heavy weight of the last 10 minutes and the last 13 hours lift from my shoulders, the traffic light turned red, forcing all three of us to take a break on a multi-lane one way city avenue. I looked up in the rearview mirror just to take in as much around me as I could, and at that moment I saw what appeared to be a flood of cars racing from the darkness to catch up to me and my other roadmates. We went from 3 to 303 cars in an instant, and I wanted to cry. The cars quickly caught up to us, and the light turned green. With my signal on to turn left from the inside turn lane, one of the thousands of impatient and inconsiderate drivers I had encountered that day sped up to pass me and the others on the left, the direction we were turning. I slammed my brakes and heard screeching behind me. I looked around for a split second and continued my turn. We were all inexplicably fine. Once again the universe aligned to keep me and many others safe.

I do not remember the last 2.5 miles until I reached home. At 12:45am I rolled into the parking garage at my apartment complex, called Fabi to tell her I had arrived, and held my breath until I saw her face. I was relieved that I had made it home, something that was not a certainty. I was grateful that after what had been an incredibly long and stressful day I had someone so special to come home to. We hugged. I cried. We both cried. And I said an extra prayer thanking God that I was safe and sound.