Be nice to your friends, you never know when saying goodbye will be the last time. I've heard those words before, or at least a form of them. I never thought, however, to have the meaning driven home. No one has died, thankfully, but after a very long, very eventful car ride I realized that there were a number of people I hadn't said appropriate goodbyes too. Oddly enough none of these thoughts came until after all was said and done. At the time my only thought was "oh fuck" accompanied by an odd sense of resignation that what would be would be. I suppose I can live with the comfort of knowing in an instant of understanding when there is no time for true thought, only an instinctual feeling, I was more or less at peace with myself.

I shall explain fully.

I traveled home today with a friend through some of the worst weather I have ever experienced. There was supposed to be significant snow and both the driver and myself knew that but I had to work and she was ready to be home so we decided to brave it. After all, we had no intentions of driving too fast and trusted ourselves to handle each situation appropriately as it came to pass. There are some things, though, that no one, no matter how careful, can be prepared for.

The first bout of excitement occurred about midway through our trip. My guess would be a full inch of snow on the road, two to three inches in the drifts at least. We hit a drift and without warning or apparent reason the rear wheels lost traction and began to fishtale. The driver fought it for awhile before losing the battle. The car went into a spin and we circled around one and a half times. We ended perpendicular to the highway. Shook up but okay we turned around and headed on our way. For the first time on the trip there were no cars around us, nor any large ditches off the shoulder. We were lucky and we knew it. The adrenaline flowed but no real worries infested us. It was the second time that was anything but easy to shake off.

Almost home, a mere sixty miles from the safety of our apartments and we hit a patch of black ice. I had heard of black ice, knew a few people who had been through accidents because of it but never thought to experience it personally. Driving, on seemingly clear road, not traveling too fast the car simply goes out of control. I knew within the first second that there was nothing the driver could do. I knew we would not recover from the spin and my only thought was "oh fuck". In seconds that seemed to last an eternity we spun around going backwards into the ditch where we completed the spin, all the time moving closer to oncoming traffic. The side of the car scrapped up the other side of the ditch and snow completely covered the windows and windshield. For that second there was no visibility, no way to know where we were, how far we had slid or who was driving near us. I took a breath and braced myself for impact. I was resigned to the knowledge that we would be hit.

Thankfully we had not slid fully into oncoming traffic. We were instead only halfway onto the shoulder, our nose faced towards the cars driving at us. As the cliche goes my heart was in my throat and my eyes refused to focus. We were fine, no one hit us and a short while later we would be towed and on our way home.

I stepped out of the car and looked at our tire tracks across the median. They were long, deep and covered a significant amount of area. Later as we are turned around headed home once again I finally realized that I expected to be hit during that instant we were covered in snow, sliding, and completely unaware of where we sat on the highway. I knew we were somewhere close to the other lanes. I knew there were a number of cars on the road when the slide began.

Driving away from the scene I thought of people. An honest reaction. What would they say if we had been hit? How would they feel if the last time they saw me was the last time we talked? My mother would kill me if I weren't already dead. My father would miss me and be fine. My friends, who knows. To each their own. In any case it didn't happen. We were not hit, nothing happened and all is well with the world. I'm not one to linger but I can say I'm shook up a bit. Justifiably I think.

But that is my story and at the moment I think I'm making too big a deal of it too be sure.

My mom is crazy about saying I love you every time we part. She knows how fast someone can be lost. I used to laugh at her a bit and wonder why she was so worried about making me say goodbye to my father when he seemed uninterested that I was leaving. I suppose now I know. Not to be melodramatic, but I wish I could have learned that lesson without the worry of being hit by a car traveling fifty miles an hour. I don't suppose any of this will change my life in any great way. I doubt my routine will change at all. I have remembered something I forgot, though. Life is alright and I rather enjoy mine.