At about 5:35 a.m., I was driving home from the office, when the driver of an 18-wheeler fell asleep at the wheel and spun out of control. At an estimated 85-90 miles per hour. By a miraculous combination of airbag technology, Divine Providence, and just plain inattentiveness, I walked away. It was even on the news here and here. The driver of the semi died on impact. Nobody else was seriously injured, least of all me. It’s miraculous considering that a 300-pound block of concrete landed on my hood at 75 miles an hour.
This was my car:
The truck was travelling southbound (I was going northbound). It started in the far right lane, and at the curve of the South Loop, it just kept going straight, crossing five lanes and hitting the concrete dividing wall. The cab split into three pieces on impact, and the trailer went off on its own course. I remember seeing the trailer sliding diagonally, and what was happening just started to sink in when I heard a thump, and my airbags went off.
Airbags are an interesting thing. Almost instantly, my field of vision was completely grayed out. I panicked and stomped the brakes, and then I panicked some more because I didn’t feel the car stopping. The reason for that was that the impact had already stopped me. I had gone from 75 to zero in under ten feet. No skid marks. When the trailer first struck the dividing wall, it fractured the wall, and a large chunk of it landed on my hood and bounced off. The impact drove my engine down through the mounts and into the pavement. All I felt was a mild bump, similar to a rear-end collision at, say, five miles an hour.
This was the first thing I saw when I spit out the airbags:
It’s the front axle of the truck. It was catapaulted across the median, and just as I pulled myself out of the car, I saw it land behind me. It actually bounced once.
The transmission landed right behind it. This thing is actually about six feet tall:
The trailer (which I would later find out was filled with live cattle) rolled onto its side, and its momentum carried it southbound for another two hundred or so feet.
All but twelve of the cattle survived.
When the police arrived, I remember looking back down I-75, and they had blocked it completely. In case you’re not familiar with Atlanta, this is one of the two main interstates that feeds from the suburbs into the city in the morning. The whole city would be paralyzed for the rest of the day. One of the other drivers looked down at the cordon and said, “Man, they threw this whole party just for us?” And we laughed, the nervous laugh of survivors who were just starting to realize what they had just lived through.
Nobody was seriously hurt. I had only minor scratches from a piece of paneling that blew out with the airbag. Many of us have had nightmares, and we’re all still shaky driving, but these things pass. Insurance will cover our monetary loss somehow.
The driver of the truck was Gary Rigsby, 36, of Kentucky. He left behind a wife and daughter, who are in my prayers.
I’m shaken by the whole thing, but I’d be lying if I said that I can’t feel somehow changed for the better after this. I was given a second chance at life when I started recovering from alcoholism, and now it appears I’ve been given yet another. Most folks aren’t this fortunate. One thing’s for sure: I’m definitely laying off the fatty foods from now on.