In A Moment

In A Moment

         There is one thing I hate about commuting. Traffic when it is raining. You are behind and in front of whatever cars happen to be around you and the weather gives you a depressed feeling. You can’t go too fast, because you might skid and hit the car in front of you. You can’t cut into another lane, because another car might skid into you. Those who drive trucks and off-roads do not have to worry about that though. Only sports cars and some sedans that are not made for rain have that problem. And that’s the situation I am in right now. In a car that’s meant for open, dry road with wide turns and straight-aways cruising at ninety miles an hour.

         Ok, so my car can’t do that. Not anymore at least. No, my 1969 Mustang has seen better years, years of which I was not alive. Damn thing is older than me. I bought it off my neighbor from down the street for two grand. The new black paint job with white racing stripes caught my attention, driving it for the first time on the highway made me realize my mistake. The transmission does not like to go into 3rd gear at times, so I get stuck going about 36 miles per hour pushing 4000rpms and get to feel the entire cabin shake while the car tries to do what it was made to.

         I released the brake ever so slightly so my car would inch forward as the traffic moved. I looked up and across to the other side of the highway, which was elevated by the ground four or five feet, or this side was going down four or five feet, regardless there was a drop between the divider. The cars on the other side all drove quite fast, happy that they finally got out of the traffic. It was always like this, where one highway ended and merged into another. Pushing 3 lanes of cars coming from New York City during rush hour into 2 lanes and vice-versa will create traffic for miles. I rarely put my foot on the gas during this; simply letting go of the brake for a few seconds gets the job done.

         Sometimes I don’t really mind the traffic much. It gives me time to think. Think about things that will most likely never enter my mind before they occur. Like what am I going to eat for dinner, should I do my laundry, things of that nature. But most of the time I just listen to music. Music that reaches deep into my subconscious to the point of where there is no thought at all. It is a moment of true peace that few people in this world ever get to experience.

         I stared out my windshield while in this moment of peace. For the past 20 minutes of slow moving traffic I have finally reached the merging lanes. Directly to my left is that little hill and countless cars driving out of the same situation I am in on the other side of the highway. I press on the brake slightly and come to a complete stop once again. I let go of the wheel and sit absorbed in my music for the length of another song.

         Then I see something large and white move erratically on the other side of the highway. I can only see the top due to the divider blocking most of my vision. To my left, the man in his jeep gets out of his car and runs forward. I look at my rear view mirror and see the woman with her friend in the car behind me do the same. I look back to my right and see why such strange behavior ensued. A large eighteen wheeler was going too fast around the turn after the merger and lost traction, sliding it into the divider. The divider stopped the trucks tires from moving, but the momentum went unhindered. I saw that in only a few seconds time the cargo section the truck would land completely covering my car. I had no time to do anything. By the time I opened the door I would be crushed. The elderly man in front of me would most likely be spared, only having the rear of his vehicle crushed by the semi. I would be the only one to die in this accident.

         It is very tragic for anyone to die in an accident. Say five or ten people die in a boat accident or car pileup, it is just a number.  But when only one person dies, it is their face, their name that is used in the reports. Sympathy and pity are not spread through the number of casualties; they are focused into the one death. This makes the impact of the tragedy so much more. Because these people see the face of the victim and that victim is me.

         But I do not want to be this victim. There is so much more I have to do. Only a freshman in college, looking for a dream job to hopefully move out and afford a new car. Start a family, have kids, and see them off into the world. Maybe own my own business, or work from home. If I was successful I could retire early and end with a relaxing life. Or maybe I would not be so lucky, and be unfortunate enough to have to work until I am ninety years old just to pay debts. Who knows what the future holds. Or held, for me at least.

         I started to think about the things’ that I have left unfinished. School, for one thing. My current terrible job where I barely make 50 a week. Those things will not be missed. I still had a cell phone bill to pay. Do I have enough in the bank to cover it? I honestly cannot say. I do not ask for my balance when I pay for things with my debit card or take cash out so I can avoid seeing how poor I am. The car I am driving isn’t actually mine, now that I think of it. My father put the two grand for it, and constantly reminds me that it is his car. But then at the same time, He tells me to take my car, bring my car up into the driveway at night, take good care of my car, etcetera. So who's car is it? Whatever, that does not really matter anymore.

         So many of these real world things and world issues seemed so trivial and meaningless all of a sudden. I watched the semi fall closer and closer to my car at such an agonizingly slow rate. It seemed that time gave me some sort of reprieve from a quick and cruel fate, that it felt pity for my helpless death. I looked past the falling semi into the trees that surrounded the highway. The rain fell so slowly that I could see each drop clearly. I noticed that in each there was a tiny rainbow caused by what little sunlight got through the clouds. It was probably something you would never see in life, but here in this warped ending I could see in such a new light.

         It made me think of the beauty in nature that everyone takes for granted. The fields of grass swaying in the wind, with the pink petals from trees flowing through the air around me as I walk through them. I remember standing on the edge of a cliff and seeing the countryside stretch for miles in all directions. Buildings poked through like ugly wounds but the trees did what they could to cover what has been done to their once natural home, before man came and replaced the fields of dreams with urban jungles and called it progress. I see the earth crying for what its’ children have done to it. Sucking the lifeblood of the planet dry called oil, laying waste to the air purifiers called trees. I search for places in my memories that were untouched by man, but wherever I look there is a building or a road or an electrical line. These moments of natural beauty are a dying breed, and there is nothing we can do about it.

         I noticed that the truck has finally made contact with my car roof. It is falling at such an angle that it will crush the drivers’ side first. I see that my spine will probably be crushed vertically into itself. My legs will be pinned under the engine and steering wheel and will probably never be recovered. I wonder how my funeral will happen then, if only, well, no real part of my body will be recovered. I will just get a picture taken some time ago perched on top a coffin that supposedly has my body in it. My family will be there, but the only ones I really care about are my younger brother and sister. I look after them and make sure they make the right choices. I care for them; I want to see them succeed. I do for them what my parents do not. I could care less how my parents are affected by this. One is too stubborn to take me seriously the other is too stupid for me to bother. Years of anger and frustration swelled inside me thinking about them. To be told by your son’s dying thoughts that he does not care for you must be the cruelest thing that could happen to a parent. But in all my rage I do not care. They can wallow in despair for the rest of their lives and it will not affect me. Because I will be dead, dead with this rage and hatred of them.

         Suddenly a long, slow, and yet very loud crack disrupts my thoughts. The windshield cracked diagonally down towards the right of the car. The metal frame in between the windows started to buckle and snap. I see the physics defying shapes that it is compressed into and the shockwave the ripples down the entire body of the car. I hear another pop from my left and see the drivers’ window crack like spider webs instantly. It looks quite beautiful, and then the glass starts to shatter piece by piece as it can no longer hold its form under the pressure of the semi. The roof starts to buckle and come closer to my head. I cannot move, only watch. At this moment I regret having been granted this time anomaly, because it will be some time before I will die, and I will feel every bone crack and muscle rip slowly until I do so. I imagine the pain will kill me before the semi does.

         All of a sudden I see her face. How could I have forgotten? The guilt of it alone almost tears me in two. All I can think of now is her. I am once again swallowed by anger, frustration, and now sorrow, regret. I am leaving her alone to live without me. I am putting her through the worst pain for someone to feel. I want to survive so I can rid her of this pain, but I see no alternative. Almost instantly my anger and sorrow disappear. All I feel now is love. Beautiful, pure, faithful love. She floods my thoughts with memories of our time together. The first time I saw her, the first time she kissed me, the happiness that swelled in my heart when we came together. I could feel a tear forming in my eye. If I had the time, I would cry. Not of sorrow, but of joy, of happiness. The blessing that I had to experience with her is unforgettable, unregrettable, and something that I think every person needs to experience in order to truly value life. That last thing I will thing about is her, the only thing I will think about now, is her. She saved me from a life of loneliness, anger, and failure. She helped me spread my wings. I know that death will not end us. If there is something after, I will find her, and I will be with her again, not just because I love her, but because she loves me.

         I feel the roof touch the top of my skull. I feel the pressure increasing in my neck. I feel it about to snap, but for some reason, I feel no pain. The only thing I feel, the last thing I feel, is holding her in my arms. Then time returned to normal, and I felt no more.