Life's a Bitch. Except when it's Not.
Last week on Monday at a little after 7 AM, I was in my Honda Insight
eastbound on Ventura Blvd. at Tampa waiting for the light to change.
Before red turned green, a middle-aged guy taking his two little
daughters to school in his brand new Ford Fusion, rear-ended my car. He
blamed the rising sun. But he was probably texting, and traveling at
about 20 mph. He never hit his brakes.
The Fusion catapulted my Insight into a 1980 Mercedes in front of me as a result. The older man driving it hit his head on his wooden steering wheel. Concurrently, inside of my car, whiplash was the word. My seat belt broke and the airbags never opened but the bag warning light came on. Things that were in the front of my car ended up in the back and vice-versa. I have no idea how, but coffee spewed all over the car interior from my tightly sealed metal travel cup. As the guy I hit and I were both rag-dolled pretty well, we were dazed and confused at the time when we stumbled from our rigs. How many seconds did this take? Three? Five? Maybe six?
The kids in the other car were fine, thank God. The man I hit will recover. I'll be back, too, and I feel fortunate and grateful that I'll be myself soon. If the car can be fixed, great. But it's of low concern.
Things could have turned out a lot worse, and I take this incident as a strong reminder that life's tentative. It's fragile. And it's not all up to me how my day is likely to go. But I can control my attitude and approach to the world. Every day is a good day to take inventory of the good things going on. And to spread some gratitude around. Yeah, life's a bitch. Except when it's not.
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The Fusion catapulted my Insight into a 1980 Mercedes in front of me as a result. The older man driving it hit his head on his wooden steering wheel. Concurrently, inside of my car, whiplash was the word. My seat belt broke and the airbags never opened but the bag warning light came on. Things that were in the front of my car ended up in the back and vice-versa. I have no idea how, but coffee spewed all over the car interior from my tightly sealed metal travel cup. As the guy I hit and I were both rag-dolled pretty well, we were dazed and confused at the time when we stumbled from our rigs. How many seconds did this take? Three? Five? Maybe six?
The kids in the other car were fine, thank God. The man I hit will recover. I'll be back, too, and I feel fortunate and grateful that I'll be myself soon. If the car can be fixed, great. But it's of low concern.
Things could have turned out a lot worse, and I take this incident as a strong reminder that life's tentative. It's fragile. And it's not all up to me how my day is likely to go. But I can control my attitude and approach to the world. Every day is a good day to take inventory of the good things going on. And to spread some gratitude around. Yeah, life's a bitch. Except when it's not.
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