It’s amazing the odd thought that pops into one’s head in the moment of crisis. That’s what happened to me as I sped west on Interstate 80 at 70-plus miles per hour and my left rear tire came apart.
Flicking on my turn signal to change from the right to the left lane, I stepped down on the gas pedal to pass the pick-up truck ahead of me as it was moving slower at 65 miles an hour. Suddenly it sounded as if some one had dropped an M-80 into the bed of my truck and with it came a violent tug and hard jerk to the left, towards the center lane wall.
Somehow, I managed to gain control of my vehicle and keep from slamming into the concrete barrier. Happily, the driver of the truck I’d been passing realized something bad had happened and slowed enough to allow me to dart in front of him and quickly into a gravel pull-off.
The rest of my day became about changing the tire, limping to the tire shop, arguing over the warranty, and then having to spend $178 for the replacement. In the end, I walked away from what could have been a nasty, life altering crash, so I’m counting my blessings.
However, in those few seconds back on the road, it wasn’t my possible death that I thought of, nor did my life flash before my eyes. Rather it was the image of the woman, to whom less than an hour before I’d given first-aid as she stroked-out while standing in line at the post office.
“I wonder how she’s doing?” I weirdly recall asking myself.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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