We were on our way to the Social Fabric Conference being held in Rogers, Arkansas near the home of Walmart. The weather was less than stellar, as we had been driving on the road for over two hours in constant rain. The new decked out Kia Soul we were loaned was full of technological advances, so we are listening to tunes on Spotify via iPhone being sent through the car’s speakers with a techy wire. Everything seemed great; two close friends taking a road trip together to get some learning and networking done. Then all of a sudden, things took a turn…
We hit a slick spot on the road while going about 55 miles per hour during a steady rain. The car begins to spin as you feel like you are losing control of the vehicle. We are spinning and spinning—you don’t hear anything. It’s pitch black—no lights, no nothing, just darkness. There’s no noise other than the music coming from the speakers. My friend was mostly silent with an occasional grunt or moan. No screams, no yells of help. The road is black and desolate. And we are spinning and spinning and spinning out of control. It seems like an eternity and you just want the car to make impact if it’s going to. We both are bracing for it because, at any second, we going to hit something. Or a car coming our way is going to hit us.
More spinning. You try not to panic but you know it’s not looking good. You can’t think straight because this may be the end of your life.
And then, the car stops, suddenly. We haven’t hit anything, but are on a major highway facing the wrong way. You and your friend are okay. The car has not a scratch. But you are frozen; paralyzed at the event that had just occurred. You need to move the car or you will be hit.
My friend tried to shake me out of my daze and told me to move the car—because it’s dark and a car will be coming and they will be moving too fast to stop. And then it will be all over…
I got out of my fog and try to move forward, but the car won’t move. So I began to think fast—I backed the car up in reverse onto the grass divider on the highway, where we are now safely out of dodge.
All of this happens within a minute and a half.
You both are alive. You both are blessed. You don’t have a scratch on you and neither does the car. The song you were listening to before the sudden chain of events is still blaring in the speakers.
It’s over. And everything is alright.
This happened to me and my very good friend Thursday night. I probably have never been as scared as I was at that moment in time. My life and everyone in it flashed before my eyes.
An experience that has definitely given me a new perspective about what’s really important.