Here is yet another example of me nearly dying one time.
Several years ago, I drove a car that was terrible. (Okay, well. To be honest, I've driven several cars that were terrible.) It was a 1991 Chevy Cavalier, and it was basically just a piece of complete and total crap from the minute I bought it. Things went wrong with it basically every second.
Once, I picked up my sister on my way to work. She was going to drop me off and borrow the car to get to an interview. She pulled out of the Goodwill parking lot and the car broke down. Hilarity ensued - I walked down to meet her, and we spent the next half an hour trying to drive my car approximately a sixteenth of a mile. We were laughing so hard at the end that I think I might have peed myself.
It wasn't funny though, really. My car sucked, and finally it was unavoidable - I would need to spend money to fix it.
I took the car to my family's "guy" - you know, the shady guy that you wouldn't take your nice car to, but you don't mind taking your clunker there, or maybe your scooter or something. Anyhow, I brought the car to him and he told me:
"No problem. It's just a spark plug issue. Cheap cheap. Have a nice day."
So... that's it! It was fixed. Seriously, no car of mine had ever had a problem so easily remedied. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. So I paid the nice man a few dollars, I climbed in my car, and I started my drive to work. Things were going swimmingly! I had rejoined the world as a civilized motorist, and it felt good.
I vividly recall stopping to get gas. I remember smiling to myself at the pleasantness of vehicle ownership. I remember thinking:
"This is great. Things couldn't get better. What a good day."
I continued on to work and was whistling to myself at the joy of the moment when suddenly I heard a noise that I didn't quite recognize. It was sort of like a swoosh. It was the sound of rushing air, but in a way that didn't really make sense to me. Since I couldn't quite place the sound, I sort of glanced about to see if I could locate the source of the noise. In failing to do so, I turned my attention back to the road - or, as it turned out, to a blank whiteness.
First, I thought I was blind. No, though. That was wrong. I could see my dashboard, and other various car innards. Only at the very last second did I realize what was happening. My car's hood had unlatched, and it was approaching my face at an epic, unfortunate speed.
What could I do? Nothing. Just brace for impact. In fact, I think I may have slammed on the brakes. Now remember, I was driving down the road at what I can only imagine was probably about fortyfive miles an hour. Slamming on the brakes was probably the smartest thing I could have done. Basically, thank god I'm not dead.
The impact was mental. If this is a thing that has never happened to you, and I hope that it is a thing that has never happened to you, then you can not even imagine the sound that this event can create. The hood crashed hard into my windshield, and the windshield reacted as you might imagine a large sheet of glass would react. It cracked, and then it shattered - while I was still behind the wheel or a car that was stopped in the middle of the road.
At that point, I pulled over to what I could only assume was the side of the road. Since I couldn't see a thing in front of me (aside from cracked glass and a great, white expanse of metal), it was hard to tell if it was actually the side of the road. Strangely I remember thinking:
"I hope I don't run over a dog."
Priorities you know.
I cut the engine and I turned on my hazards. To be honest though, anyone who knows anything about driving did not need the warning of my hazard lights to tell them that something was wrong with my car - or my parking job, which I eventually realized was pretty laughable. (Thankfully I did not run over a dog!) I got out of the car and I realized that I was covered in tiny shards of glass that had apparently fallen out of the shattered windshield.
Thankfully, my mechanic replaced my windshield for free. He did, however, try to blame the entire situation on me. You see, I should have known that I had an old, rusted hood latch. I should have known that it wasn't reliable, and I should have checked to be sure that it was hooked securely before I drove away. I should never have assumed that the mechanic would ever have done such a thing, because that would have been absurd.
Needless to say, that man is not my mechanic anymore.
