It was a cool evening in June 2008 and my little Honda Fit purred comfortingly, the houses on Williams Road catching the afterglow of a west coast sunset. As always, it was a pleasure to be driving on Richmond's flat, straight roads, lined with maple, cherry or oak trees, especially since it was a mere 24 hours since I had left the chaos of Mumbai traffic. There was one problem, though. I was so drowsy that the beauty had no effect on me. I was in danger of falling asleep at the wheel. The twelve and a half hour time difference was playing havoc with my body.
To combat the situation, I punched the buttons on the door handle till all the windows were in the fully open position and a cool, invigorating breeze blew through the cabin and jolted me awake. I had not really wanted to go back to work on the Monday morning after my return from India the previous afternoon, but the boss thought I needed to come in and sort out the chaos my section had apparently descended into in my absence. I am a great believer in the dictum that Nobody is Indispensable, but expediency took precedence over good sense in this case and I had relented.
I made a right turn on to No.3 Road and again a left on to Ryan Road. Though it was nine o'clock in the evening, there was still plenty of light in the sky on this ninth day of the month. I slowed down as the road began its meander at the edge of South Arm Park. In a about half a kilometer, I would be home.
I cannot recall at which precise moment I dozed off. But I do recall in graphic detail the moment my eyes opened and I saw the tree enlarge itself through the windshield, the sickening thud of impact followed almost instantaneously by a loud hiss and the air bag inflating and hitting my face and chest with the force of a water balloon. Still conscious, I watched incredulously as my little car spun around and bounced back on to the road where any oncoming traffic should have sealed my fate that night. Instead, it was very quiet except for the loud scream of a man walking a Great Dane and who was now yelling,"What the f***!!" The tree had saved his life and he was running hell for leather.
His wife, meanwhile, had stopped and watched me. I could see hot gases and steam rising from the crumpled bonnet. I took a quick inventory of my limbs: they were all present and didn't seem any the worse for wear as I slowly flexed each one. I un-clipped from my seat belt and checked my door. It was jammed. I reached out and opened the passenger side door, extricated myself from the wreck and for what seemed like a long time stood looking at the smoking innards of what, just moments ago, had been the only brand new automobile that I had ever owned.
"Excuse me, are you all right?" the woman whose husband and dog had fled the scene, asked me. That broke my trance-like state and I mumbled, "Yes, I seem to be all right."
As the after shock hit me I collapsed back into the passenger seat and tried to collect my thoughts. The woman stopped a man driving past. He used his cell phone to call 911. I couldn't find mine.
Within ten minutes, an ambulance arrived, lights flashing and siren wailing and parked about twenty yards away. Two men rushed out the back holding a stretcher between them. They told me to stay completely still, while they checked for broken bones and immobilized my neck. Suddenly my cellphone rang from somewhere near the center console. One of the paramedics picked it up and spoke to my wife who was on the line.
During the ten minute ride to Richmond Hospital, they tried to hook up a saline tube to my veins. But there seemed to be a hitch finding the right place on my forearm. They asked me a couple of times,"Sir, how fast were you going? The impact seems to suggest that you were doing quite a clip." I insisted that I was driving slowly since I knew the road had curves, this was my regular route home, that I was suffering from jet lag and had dozed off momentarily. They nodded but did not seem convinced. By this time we were at the hospital and the jabbing needle had still not found an inlet, so they stopped trying and instead wheeled me straight into a room where I lay supine and immobile. A nurse pulled some curtains around the bed, asked me a couple of questions while she checked me for injuries, told me the doctor would see me soon, and trotted off.
Slowly it began to sink in that I was indeed very lucky to be alive. What if I had been driving on a busy road when I dozed off? What if the tree had not been in the way, I would surely have hit the man and his Great Dane. My wife and son arrived a little later, driven over by my sister-in-law and her husband. I could see the relief on their faces when they saw me relatively unhurt.
Two hours later I was discharged and went home with only a lump of a bruise on my upper left chest where the air bag had made first contact and a slight cut on my arm.
As the first post on this blog I decided to share my cautionary tale in the hope that it will convince frequent flyers and ordinary people who undertake long transcontinental flights crossing many time zones that jet lag can have very serious consequences. I flew as a flight attendant for 28 years and my body could never cope with jet lag. My advice: Don't Fly and Drive!
To combat the situation, I punched the buttons on the door handle till all the windows were in the fully open position and a cool, invigorating breeze blew through the cabin and jolted me awake. I had not really wanted to go back to work on the Monday morning after my return from India the previous afternoon, but the boss thought I needed to come in and sort out the chaos my section had apparently descended into in my absence. I am a great believer in the dictum that Nobody is Indispensable, but expediency took precedence over good sense in this case and I had relented.
I made a right turn on to No.3 Road and again a left on to Ryan Road. Though it was nine o'clock in the evening, there was still plenty of light in the sky on this ninth day of the month. I slowed down as the road began its meander at the edge of South Arm Park. In a about half a kilometer, I would be home.
I cannot recall at which precise moment I dozed off. But I do recall in graphic detail the moment my eyes opened and I saw the tree enlarge itself through the windshield, the sickening thud of impact followed almost instantaneously by a loud hiss and the air bag inflating and hitting my face and chest with the force of a water balloon. Still conscious, I watched incredulously as my little car spun around and bounced back on to the road where any oncoming traffic should have sealed my fate that night. Instead, it was very quiet except for the loud scream of a man walking a Great Dane and who was now yelling,"What the f***!!" The tree had saved his life and he was running hell for leather.
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| My Honda Fit suffered similar damage and there was no windscreen left |
His wife, meanwhile, had stopped and watched me. I could see hot gases and steam rising from the crumpled bonnet. I took a quick inventory of my limbs: they were all present and didn't seem any the worse for wear as I slowly flexed each one. I un-clipped from my seat belt and checked my door. It was jammed. I reached out and opened the passenger side door, extricated myself from the wreck and for what seemed like a long time stood looking at the smoking innards of what, just moments ago, had been the only brand new automobile that I had ever owned.
"Excuse me, are you all right?" the woman whose husband and dog had fled the scene, asked me. That broke my trance-like state and I mumbled, "Yes, I seem to be all right."
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| The actual site of the accident 4 days later |
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| The impact had taken the bark off |
As the after shock hit me I collapsed back into the passenger seat and tried to collect my thoughts. The woman stopped a man driving past. He used his cell phone to call 911. I couldn't find mine.
Within ten minutes, an ambulance arrived, lights flashing and siren wailing and parked about twenty yards away. Two men rushed out the back holding a stretcher between them. They told me to stay completely still, while they checked for broken bones and immobilized my neck. Suddenly my cellphone rang from somewhere near the center console. One of the paramedics picked it up and spoke to my wife who was on the line.
During the ten minute ride to Richmond Hospital, they tried to hook up a saline tube to my veins. But there seemed to be a hitch finding the right place on my forearm. They asked me a couple of times,"Sir, how fast were you going? The impact seems to suggest that you were doing quite a clip." I insisted that I was driving slowly since I knew the road had curves, this was my regular route home, that I was suffering from jet lag and had dozed off momentarily. They nodded but did not seem convinced. By this time we were at the hospital and the jabbing needle had still not found an inlet, so they stopped trying and instead wheeled me straight into a room where I lay supine and immobile. A nurse pulled some curtains around the bed, asked me a couple of questions while she checked me for injuries, told me the doctor would see me soon, and trotted off.
Slowly it began to sink in that I was indeed very lucky to be alive. What if I had been driving on a busy road when I dozed off? What if the tree had not been in the way, I would surely have hit the man and his Great Dane. My wife and son arrived a little later, driven over by my sister-in-law and her husband. I could see the relief on their faces when they saw me relatively unhurt.
Two hours later I was discharged and went home with only a lump of a bruise on my upper left chest where the air bag had made first contact and a slight cut on my arm.
As the first post on this blog I decided to share my cautionary tale in the hope that it will convince frequent flyers and ordinary people who undertake long transcontinental flights crossing many time zones that jet lag can have very serious consequences. I flew as a flight attendant for 28 years and my body could never cope with jet lag. My advice: Don't Fly and Drive!
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| My little Honda in happier times! |
