Brake Pads

Note: Even though my crazy driving phobia rears its ugly head here again, what this post is really about is gratitude and blessings. Feel free to not comment on my personal baggage.

About a month ago, when I stopped at an intersection on my way to a church activity, the brakes gave off the most dreadful grinding, screeching sound. It had been a tiring day, and since driving still terrifies me on a fairly regular basis, I almost turned around and drove (carefully) right back home. Instead I just pulled over, freaked out a little (a lot), and tested the brakes in the parking lot for a few minutes before eventually driving on. At the activity that night, I mentioned the experience and a friend suggested, from experience, that it was the brake pads. The next day we took the car to the mechanic, and we got ourselves some new brake pads.

Fast forward to a week ago. I’d just visited a friend’s yard sale and was on my way home (down Ritchie Highway) with another friend following behind me, lugging a chair for me in her van.

The roads weren’t particularly busy that morning, but Ritchie is a 45-mph, multilane road, and I was going along briskly when, far in front of me (but not far enough for this to be a good idea), a fellow started across the road from the right lane. I was in the far left lane, so I figured that by the time he got to my lane he would speed up to cross ahead of me or stop in the lane before mine so I could pass. Either way was kind of a lousy idea for him, but whatever.

I kept watching him for signs of hesitation or even any recognition that I was coming toward him. This all, of course, happened very quickly (as things tend to at car speeds), and in the meantime I was slowing down just a bit to see what he would do. It had not yet entered my mind that he would completely ignore the car hurtling toward him—not even turn his head to “look both ways” a single time before continuing to mosey into my lane of traffic.

When he did so, I panicked. I started braking hard and fast. Really, really hard and fast. I screamed. I didn’t honk, which was unfortunate (but all my brain could process was to stop the car). I didn’t swerve, which I probably could have done (but again, the brain processing thing). I just screamed and braked.

You know those scenes you see in the movies where the car hits a pedestrian, and the body rolls up the windshield and bounces over the car? This is the scene that was playing through my mind in those brief moments. I was absolutely certain I was going to hit this man. Did I mention I used to have nightmares about driving? A lot. I still do, occasionally, but they don’t usually have quite the same punch they used to. Anyway, this would have been one of those nightmares, only without the lovely waking up part.

Guess how close I got to hitting him?

Well, the car completely stopped (thank you, Elissa, for not following me very closely in your van—I’m glad you didn’t crash into me when I stopped). The man still had not turned to look in my direction, not once. But he finally did turn to look at me when he walked into the corner of my bumper.

He had gone all the way across the lane in front of me, but then he veered just enough toward me to tap into the far left side of the car, after I had barely stopped. And you know how sometimes when you bump into a table accidentally, you sort of turn toward it and say “Oops” or something equally brilliant?* That’s when this man I’d almost run down turned and saw me for the first time, with something like surprise in his eyes.

After a moment in which we looked at each other and perhaps pondered our own mortality, he moved on and I drove away.

I am so grateful for new brake pads. I’m grateful that I was the one driving the car when the original grinding sound occurred. Brice knows my driving issues, and so I think he was very quick to allay my worries and go to the mechanic. I don’t know how long the brake pads still would have worked reasonably well, or how long we would have put off the trip to the mechanic, but I know they wouldn’t have worked well enough for this. I also doubt the brakes on the other car would have been good enough; for this moment, we needed new brake pads. I am certain that God was protecting me from an event that would have utterly shattered me (not to mention—I add with a bit of morbid levity—him). I’m grateful Elissa was driving far behind me. I’m grateful that despite my frozen brain and unimpressive panicked reactions, I still was blessed to do just enough to avoid hitting him.

The safety of this moment was nothing less than a miracle, and I am grateful.

Joe Junior, who (incidentally) looks nothing like the pedestrian.

*In a comical turn of events, I was reminded of the moment in While You Were Sleeping when Joe Junior bumps into a tree branch with his New Year’s party hat and apologizes to the tree. I watch too many movies.