Change

Misty and I graduated from Auburn University in mid-December of 1996. Our first-born came into the world in early January. Following his birth, we stayed in Auburn, jobless, for another month. In February of 1997 we prepared ourselves for the move from Auburn to Florence.

Since we had a one-month-old baby, not to mention a mother one month removed from a very difficult birth, my mother agreed to come and help us pack, load, and make the drive. Because we had two cars and a U-Haul truck full of belongings to move, we needed her help with the drive. Because we needed her to help with the drive, we did not need her to drive her vehicle to Auburn.

Therefore, on the night before our move, I set out alone to drive to Birmingham. I would meet my parents at TGI Fridays in Inverness and my mother would ride back with me to Auburn. The drive to Birmingham proved rather uneventful, for the first two hours at least.

As I approached the turn for the restaurant, I moved over into the turn lane. Almost as soon as I moved into the lane to my left, I realized I’d exited the highway too soon. A split second after that realization I noticed that I was quickly approaching the end of the turn lane.

I had little time to react. I jerked the steering wheel to the right to reenter the highway. I overcompensated. Soon the landscape spun in front of my eyes. The world went silent. I had no idea where I was or what was happening. The blur of light and dark outside of my car was impossible to decipher.

I felt a sudden jolt and a final turn. Finally, my car came to a rest. I sat motionless for a moment while I tried to understand what happened. I looked around to try and get my bearings.

I soon realized that my car came to rest on the median. At least most of it was on the median. The driver’s side wheels sat on the pavement. The rest of the car was in the median. I also found that I was on the southbound side of the median, but my car faced north.

I got out of the car and, because of the design of the roadway, stepped into on coming traffic. I quickly ran behind my car and stood on the median. I saw another vehicle behind me in the crossover.

I was relieved some one stopped. I knew I would need help. I knew I hit the curb hard. I expected multiple tires would be flat.

The other driver exited. He looked in my direction and asked what happened. As I explained my travails, he looked over his car. I finished my story. He finished his examination. Then, apparently having found no damage, he reentered his vehicle and drove away.

I shook off the disappointment and began an examination of my own vehicle. Luckily I’d only blown one tire. Unfortunately it was the front driver’s side tire. That tire sat about 4 inches into the left lane of Highway 280 South. I knew I’d have to get my car on level ground before I could use the jack, so I started pushing.

With great effort, I got the car onto the level pavement of the crossover. I went to the trunk and began fishing for the jack, the spare tire, and the tire iron. I found the tools and prepared to jack up the car.

My car was no longer in the oncoming lane, but it was not far from it. I set up the jack and began turning the crank. As I squatted my rear end was literally an inch from the nearest lane of traffic. I placed the jack as cars sped past mere inches from my back.

I began jacking the car and it rolled backward and fell off of the jack. I reset the jack and began jacking again. The car rolled again. I got everything reset and began cranking again.

As I worked the jack I heard a vehicle approach and come to a stop. I turned expecting to see the same driver from earlier. I imagined he had stopped in a well-lit parking lot, found a scratch, and returned expecting me to pay for the repair.

This was not the driver from before. This person actually offered to help. First, he asked if I’d set the parking brake. No.

Then he stepped out into the oncoming traffic and diverted the cars from the left lane into the center lane. As he stood there waving cars over to their right, he told me of another motorist in the same situation who’d been hit by an oncoming car a few days earlier.

The story was motivation to work faster.

I got the car off the ground, removed the flat, placed the spare, and lowered the car back to the pavement. I placed the spare in the trunk. I gathered my tools and placed them in the trunk also. As I closed the trunk, I heard the helpful motorist drive away. I didn’t even get a chance to say thank you.