I looked into the rearview mirror just in time to have a single thought: I’m about to get hit. Impact came a split second later.
It was pouring rain that day and all the traffic on I-95 was coming to a stop, a fact that eluded the pickup truck behind me.
I sat, stunned, and then took stock. My first thought was for my daughter, then 9. She looked at me, also stunned, and then started crying. I first checked her and found no noticeable injuries. (She’d later take several trips to the chiropractor but luckily, there was nothing worse than that.) I checked myself and found the same. I limped my vehicle off to the side of the road, and then I started to think. My car was in the shop, so on this day I was borrowing my dad’s large SUV. Its back end was in a bad way, but it could take a punch. Briefly, I imagined how this might have gone had I been in my smaller sedan.
You’ve probably got some sort of similar story. We’re all South Florida drivers, after all. And mine is one of the good ones, with no serious injuries. A drive on I-95 can feel a bit like the old pilot joke about landings – any one you walk away from is a good one.
In general I have little time for “Florida Man” stereotypes that make us sound like some uniquely weird circus. But when it comes to driving, there are statistics behind the notion that we’re a bit different. Those statistics can be found in this month’s feature story, by Christiana Lilly. It looks at driving in South Florida – why it’s bad and what the ramifications of that are. It’s an issue with no clear-cut answer. But one thing is clear cut: if it feels like driving here is worse than in other places, that’s because it is.
The frustration of my accident, which happened almost two years ago, continued for a bit. Several weeks later we received the accident report in the mail and found, much to my surprise, that no fault had been assigned. The truck that hit me had been hit by a phantom third vehicle that had left remarkably little rear damage on the truck and had, in an equally remarkable stroke of good fortune, been able to drive away. It was one of the best pieces of fiction I read that year.
Since then, I’ve made changes. If I’m making a journey to somewhere one of our two train systems goes, I take the train. If not, I only take the interstate when absolutely necessary. Broward or Sunrise will get me to the Panthers game as well as 595 will, I just need to leave a bit earlier. Those roads are, of course, also part of South Florida’s more-dangerous-than-usual driving ecosystem, but I feel like I can at least use my defensive driving skills more when I’m away from the highways.
It shouldn’t have to be like this. But in South Florida, “My big accident at least wasn’t so bad” is a happy ending.