Sometimes, the worst experiences make for the best stories. An almost-crash may feel like the end of the world in the moment, but when everything ends up okay it can become great dinner-table conversation. Yesterday, we presented you all with that table (plus a wealth of food options, many of them vegan) and you treated us to a ton of great stories. Here are some of our favorites.
Early on into owning my last car, a 2007 Saturn Ion, it had just finished raining out, and the sun was back out. I was driving down a country road and wanted to open my window to get some fresh air, but was behind a semi cab kicking up a ton of spray into me, and going 45 in a 55. I waited for the striped lines for a passing zone, hit my signal, and moved to pass.
Just as the semi cab, without signaling, moved out to pass the compact car it had been tailgating the entire time, making it impossible for anyone else to see.
I hastily hit the brakes so I wouldn’t get clipped by the oblivious semi cab, and steered back to my line.
Not, brakes then steer. Brakes and steer. And, see, I’d known cerebrally that this car didn’t have ABS or traction control, but this was the first time I’d felt it.
Oops.
I fishtailed a bit, then the car went into a spin. I credit both good fortune and my experience in Forza Motorsport for how to manage the car as it went into a full 360 degree clockwise spin. I stayed on the brakes - keep them locked up so they wouldn’t start rolling at an inopportune time - most of the way around the loop. A moment frozen in time as I made eye contact with the blonde girl in the Celica who was following me, windshield-to-windshield. I steered away from the spin coming out of that, then into the spin as I started to come true, then straightened out and released the brakes as I was again pointed in the direction of travel. I suppose I was going no slower than 45 miles per hour still as I ended up back in my own lane.
Somewhere in the maneuver, the Ion realized the engine wasn’t driving the wheels and disconnected it somehow as a rudimentary form of traction control. I felt the same way. I coasted to the shoulder as the semi, oblivious, made its pass and they continued down the road. The girl in the Celica pulled up alongside me and stopped for a moment. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Feeble thumbs up.
“Good job!”
“Thanks.”
I stayed on the side of the road for a few minutes as my heart rate came down and called the friend I was on my way to visit, a, “Hi, I’m not dead, a crazy thing just happened,” call, and finally continued on my way.
Man I wish I had video of that, either onboard dashcam or chase cam from the Celica.
There’s a massive gap between knowing you don’t have ABS, and understanding what a lack of ABS really means for your car. I, and the four tires I simultaneously flat-spotted on a certain 1993 Mazda Miata back in college, know this gap well.
The flying tractor trailer wheel.
Way back in the 80's when I was but a grade-schooler one of my parents was driving me to school, it was a long trip and had several miles on the interstate through the city (was a private school across town, my entire child support check was used to pay for it as one insisted I absolutely could not go to a public school as they might teach me about evolution and such). It was a drive that we made hundreds of times, it was just routine. Then one day that routine was interrupted, though the event lasted but a few seconds it seemed to unfold in slow motion.
Behind an 18 wheeler in a herd of traffic going 60 or so mph, no real median just a bit of pavement and then concrete barrier, but just like many other days so was boring and benign. Then the trailer kind of jumps a bit and one of the wheels decides to exit stage left, pretty much right into the concrete barrier, that is when time slowed, we watched it bounce up and off the barrier and I’m transfixed on it as it is making a bee-line for the my side of the windshield (was the 80's, wasn’t strange for a kid to be in the front seat) at that point, with the speed, distance, and surroundings there were not really options for any evasive actions, it seemed like it just hung there forever, my young brain went into full “oh shit I’m going to die” mode, my parent was clutching the wheel bracing for impact as though aimed at my side it was still going to get both of us at the angle it was flying. Then the miracles of physics and aerodynamics took hold, it wanted to return to its origina orientation it slowly started to tilt as it caught a bit of lift and as it did its trajectory shifted just enough that we slowly watched it fly just past the mirror on the drivers side, it felt like I could almost count the lug holes as it went by. Then suddenly things snapped back to real time and I am turned around looking back to see it land and then harmlessly roll along the barrier. Somehow my underwear remained clean and dry.
Have had other near misses, and some non-misses, but that one is still the most terrifying, nothing to do and no other driver to hope for a reaction from989.
Finding yourself face-to-face with an obstacle on the road, whether it’s another car or a bit of debris, is scary enough. Looking down the barrel of a projectile, coming straight for your head? Terrifying.
At 17 I was drafted by the old man handling some driving from Iowa to Arkansas. This was a big boat Chrysler Newport—it floated on highways—and way before anyone bothered with seatbelts.
We were in Missouri on a Federal highway—not like an Interstate—plenty of intersections and I had been at it for 100 miles. Wasn’t used to long stretches of driving yet, so I was getting fatigued. We had to be doing 75mph in a 70mph zone. I came up to another 2-way intersection where the crossways driver has to stop. There was a car coming from the right. I kept my eye on him.
‘He ought to be slowing,’ I thought. We closed distance.
He was half a block from the highway and STILL not slowing. ‘Jeezussholyshitthiscan’tbehappening.’ Now he didn’t have room to stop even if he wanted to.
I slammed on the power disc front brakes. The wheels locked. The tires howled so loud—it filled the cabin like jet noise. The Newport’s nose dove so low, I’d’ve sworn it was about to plow into the asphalt. Corner of my eye, Mom “braced” one arm against the dash. Dad was doing paperwork while sitting dead center on the rear bench seat using his wooden briefcase as a desk. I could hear everything sliding forward.
If I hadn’t hit the brakes, I would’ve plowed right into the knucklehead’s door. Getting the boat slowed down, I was then about to slam into the rear axle area. I had the presence of mind to take my foot off the brake and yank the barge’s wheel to the right and then to the left as I made it around the goddam dumbass. It only took three seconds to transpire, but felt like an eternity.
It sunk in what had just happened—how close we all came to dying—none of us said anything. My hands started shaking badly. I had to pull over onto the shoulder and let Dad drive. So effing, effing close....
Highways with cross streets aren’t uncommon in more rural areas, but they can be a horror if people disregard the lights and signage. Here’s a tip: Don’t get in the way of the cars that are going highway speeds.
Working on a buddy’s ‘78 C20. He had just ripped the automatic out of it and fitted a 4-spd.
We needed to see if the fuel tank selector valve was working properly. So I crawled under to listen for it. I hear him say, “Lemme try this...” and I’m already flying out from under the pickup because I know he’s about to see if it’ll start on the “empty” tank. I clear the tires and stand up just in time for that high compression 350ci Chevrolet Small Block to roar to life... in reverse... without a clutch safety switch.
I’d left the passenger door open. It scooped me up like that hand on Animal House, and started carrying me toward the pillar next to the shop door. I couldn’t get down... I just wanted to fall under the door and let it pass over me... GRAVITY WAS NOT WORKING!!! The path between me and the wall that was to be my doom was also not clear. There was a trash can, a tool box, a 36-inch box fan and I don’t know what all, but I was pushing it out of the way trying to get my feet set to attempt to break this steel door off of the cab before it crushed me. ...my foot went through the fan. Now I’m dragging the box fan, stalled against my leg, and still kicking at tool boxes and whatnot to get a clear path to the wall.
Suddenly it’s quiet —except for the hum of the stalled fan— and I can feel the cold shop floor. The pickup stopped. I hear a meek voice, “Are... are you okay?” He’s terrified that I’m just goo on the floor. I reply, “Yep, just get me outta this fan, please.”
Not a scratch. Just a bruise or two. Had to cut two blades off of that fan.
The selector valve was bad.
If there’s one thing you should always do, when you know someone is beneath your car, is to try and start it in gear. There are never any problems with this, and it’s a great idea. This is a perfect example.
Head-on.
both as a motorist and As a cyclist I’ve seen a lot of shit... I personally abide by a very strict double yellow line rule for both driving and cycling.... double yellow means no passing cars (2 wheels over to pass a bike when the other side is 100% clear is legal)... more than once, I’ve encountered cars driving down the wrong side of the road to where I’ve had to swerve outa the way. it isn’t all that uncommon for a motorist to swing across a double yellow line to pass a car... I usually ride in the opposite direction of traffic as to not be in anybody’s way or path, but that means that my side of the road is wide open for motorists coming the opposite direction to make some stupid decisions.... I usually ride that section east to west. and it’s a super popular traffic corridor coming the opposite direction in the afternoon. also ride with lights and cameras too.
that being said. it’s not just people passing other people... I have more than once encountered some serious crack head drivers FLYING down the wrong side of a divided road... that was scary as shit. once in my truck, twice on my bike.... when i was in my truck i was in the left lane they were driving straight at me fucking fast too.... I crossed my fingers and slammed on the brakes..... almost got rear ended too...... why didnt i move over? well there was someone behind me as well, and if the odds were 50/50 whether I was gonna get hit, i figured it would be better that I keep course as opposed to change things up.... if the idiot goes around, we can avoid a collision, if i go around, the idiot plows the person behind me at full speed. (there is a very clear yellow line that splits that road btw).. red arrow is the way cars are supposed to go, but sometimes an idiot driving south will veer left on to the opposite side.
You would think that “stay out of the oncoming lane of traffic” would be a day-one driver’s ed. lesson, one that sticks with you for the rest of your driving career. Apparently not.
Many years ago (like almost 30), my buddy and I were headed up to Hemlock Valley ski hill (now named Sasquatch Mountain Resort), east of Vancouver near the town of Aggasiz. We’d left early in the morning and the temperature was just below zero degrees C.
To get to the hill you leave Hwy 7 and drive along Morris Valley Road, which at the time was a macadam-paved tertiary “highway” with no shoulders and very little traffic. As you drive along Morris Valley Road you’ll eventually have to cross the Chehalis River. 30 years ago that crossing was a one-lane, wooden decked bridge. That wooden deck is about to be very important.
My buddy and I are zipping along Morris Valley Road at about 70 km/h in my very short wheelbase, Bronco II. I was still moving from the right lane, into the centre of the one-lane wooden decked bridge as I entered the bridge span.
The wooden deck hadn’t thawed as fast as the paved road. My little Bronco instantly slid left... toward the flimsy guard rail and a 25' drop to the creek. I kept my foot lightly on the gas and yanked the wheel right. The Bronco responded by sliding right... toward the other guard rail and drop. Keep my foot in it and steer back to the left; truck slides left. Repeat for the right and slide right, again.
I was on my third slide left when we hit the pavement on the other side of the bridge. At that point, I damn-near flipped the Bronco because I was anticipating the upcoming slide. I’d yanked the wheel right only to find that the tires gripped pavement and really tried to go right. Instead of flipping, we went careening off toward the ditch. Hard on the brakes, quick turn back to the left and we stopped inches from going over into the ditch.
We took a 10 minute break from driving to catch our breath.
The crazy part is that we hit nothing. No scraped paint, no damage at all.
Hitting a patch of low-traction pavement and having your wheels slide out from under you isn’t the worst feeling in the world. After all, you’ve played driving sims, you know how to recover from this. But when you overcorrect, and start sliding the other way, that’s when things start to feel very bad very quickly.
This one happened to my wife, (no, she didn’t cause it...): She was traveling from Norfolk to Newport News, VA through the Monitor-Merrimack Bridge Tunnel. We’re locals, so we’re both unfazed by tunnels. (I wish everyone could maintain speed in them, but whatever). As she was nearing the end of the tunnel, she started hearing from behind her, “THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK!” Someone had misjudged distances or something and all the cars behind her were rear-ending each other. She was the last car to make it safely out of the tunnel without being hit (Again, she didn’t cause it - some idiot father behind her started playing bumper cars).
When all was said and done, it was a multi-car crash that blocked the entire tunnel for hours. I was a few miles behind her in my car, and she immediately called me to let me know she was safe and warn me - just barely in time for me to make the last exit to take an alternate route, otherwise she would have ended up on her own with the kids that weekend. (Long story, but if we didn’t get there by sundown, religiously, I wouldn’t have been able to drive anymore).
Reminder to the world - Tunnels are just roads underwater. Drive like normal - don’t tailgate, don’t slow down, don’t speed excessively, and remember, the end of the tunnel is a grade. If you don’t speed up to make up for it, you’re causing the backup.
You heard it here first, folks. Tunnels, particularly those through which motor vehicles travel, are roads. Just drive through them like you would any other road. Okay, maybe get a few neutral revs out while you’re in there, just for the echo.
I worked at a neighbourhood mom-n’-pop lube shop in the late 90s and early 2000s when I was going to university. One Saturday morning in late ‘99, one of the other guys came to pick me up (my ‘83 GTI was on the fritz), and we resolved to hit McDonalds for breakfast on our way to work. There was one location right by my place and another right by the shop; Brad asked me which one I thought we should go to, and I said the closer one. But as we pulled up to the intersection, the light was about to change, so he said “Nah, let’s do the other one,” and slowed to a stop in the left turn lane rather than head through to Ron’s. Just as he did, a late ‘80s F-150 went sailing through the intersection from the right at about 100kph, blasting straight though a red light. If Brad hadn’t chosen the other McDonalds, I would have taken the full force of that F-150 to my right side with only the passenger door of a ‘91 Sunbird to protect me. Realistically, we both would have died, but there wouldn’t have been enough left of me to bury. Brad and I turned to each other, and he just slowly said “There it fuckin’ is, eh?”
That shit still keeps me up at night and makes me wonder how many alternate universes there are where my kids don’t get to exist because of some random tweaker playing chicken with traffic lights...
It’s always fun to explore alternate realities, to theorize about what butterfly effects would have unfolded had you made different choices in life. Watching those timelines diverge before your eyes, however, can be much more terrifying.
I was driving Rim of World in California on my way to Big Bear mountain. Traffic was backed up over an hour the normal route, so I decided to try this way for the first time ever.
It was cold and icy in the shade, but other drivers where still passing me for driving too slow in my 2009 WRX. I got to a sunny section and a Q6 passed me, leaving me in the dust. At this point, a Tacoma was riding my tail too close for comfort, so I decided to accelerate on this sunlit patch.
What I failed to notice was that this particular stretch turned into a bridge/overpass instead of dug into the mountain, and so it was bare grey concrete instead of black asphalt; and it was still below freezing. I hit ice and the car started moving sideways toward the retaining wall next to the cliff.
Luckily I’ve slid on ice before and habit just allowed me to keep calm, counter-steer, and come to a stop without hitting (or going over) the wall. At this point, the Tacoma backed off and I decided I dgaf if someone is tailing me, I’m driving the appropriate speed for the conditions.
I was certain the Q6 must’ve gone over at their speed. When I came around the bend, they were pulled over, looking at a busted bumper and quarter panel along with at least 3 other vehicles.
As a former turbo Subaru owner, I understand the itch to blast through snowy passes at the ragged edge of your tires’ grip. But, like the person who bought my Subaru seemingly discovered, sometimes it’s best to play it safe.
My wife and I were driving down the highway kinda late at night in her then-nearly-new Impreza. It had been misting outside and was pretty cold, so we weren’t going terribly fast—probably just 5 or so MPH below the speed limit. I noticed a wreck about 1/8 mile up ahead on the highway. I had some time, so I eased onto the brakes.
The tires immediately locked up. Again, I didn’t slam on the brakes. I very gently pressed on the brake pedal. The mist on the roads had just slipped down to freezing, covering the entire road in black ice.
There were three or four cars scattered about on the road. I was certain I was going to hit one of them. I held my foot down on the brake hoping that the ABS would do something, laid on the horn in an effort to warn the other cars of imminent impact, and did my best to steer out of the way.
I somehow managed to slip right between them. I probably got within a foot of two of the cars.
Once we were clear, I limped home at like 25 MPH. We didn’t really have much of an issue past that point. But it took a while for my heart rate to drop.
This isn’t firmly on-topic, but it’s relevant, and I’ve always wondered: Isn’t it kind of dangerous to have a car’s airbag also be its horn button? I mean, you’d want to use your horn in the seconds leading up to an accident to try to prevent it, but doing so puts your hand directly on an explosive charge. Why are all cars like this?
Almost a decade ago now, I was driving on a major local highway in the middle of a blizzard (as I had to drive heavily for work). Traffic was accordingly light, but even on a 3-lane highway, the choice was either do ~50km/h in the slow lane with the transport trucks, or ~80-100km/h (or more) in the fast lane. The fast lane looked cleared enough from the other cars, so I felt plenty comfortable driving there - right up until the lane was no longer clear. I hit a patch of heavy snow that had me yawing right towards the guardrail, and needed a hefty yank of the steering wheel to get out of it (especially on a janky little beater with no traction or ABS). That upset the car enough to put me fishtailing across 3 lanes until I straightened out (thankfully the snow had most people home so there was no one to run into me). I stuck to the right for the rest of that trip.
As well, I don’t how much I can attribute to luck versus observation, but twice I’ve had someone spin out right in front of me (a GMC Savana in heavy snow and an unladen rolloff truck in the rain) and managed to slow enough to avoid those.
All too often, I see drivers out on the roads who are prepared for the exact conditions they see ahead of them — nothing more, nothing less. When the weather makes it easy for hazards to hide, whether they’re snow drifts or stopped cars in thick fog, you always need to be prepared for what you might see.
In college I was driving my ‘95 Cougar home from a late class on a cold winter night. I was in the left lane of an interstate driving at a normal highway speed, as it had not snowed recently and the road was clear. I must have hit a patch of ice on an over pass. My car spun a full 360 degrees, it was one of those moments where time seems to have slowed down, and I can still remember it vividly ~20 years later. My clearest memory is the moment in the spin where my car was pointed sideways at the overpass, I thought for sure I was going to hit it and possibly roll over, and I thought that surely this would be the end of me. The strange thing is how calm it all felt, I sort of accepted in the moment that there was nothing I could do at that point, and that I might die.
Once the spin was finished my car was miraculously pointed in the right direction, albeit two lanes over from where I started. I proceeded to drive down the road as if nothing happened, although I don’t think I stopped shaking for half an hour. Had there been cars in the lanes next to me my story may have ended differently.
If you’ve ever seen those signs, they’re true: Bridges freeze over long before the rest of a given road. They have cold air above and below them, without any contact from the warmth of the Earth. Always be mindful when you’re crossing a gap on cold days.
In 2013, I had just leased a new Audi Q5 and had only been living in LA for a little while (moved from the UK). I was in busy but fast-moving traffic on the 405 going north over the Sepulveda Pass from the westside to the valley. This pass is basically a giant freeway which goes up and over a mountain connecting two major parts of Los Angeles. Cars basically up a big hill so a lot of people tend to speed up the hill to keep momentum but once you pass Mulholland you start coming down a steep incline, and most people are still flooring it. I was in the furthest right lane to head onto the 101. I glanced to my left and the 5 lanes next to me had all stopped. I continued looking and thought I wonder why, only to turn back to my lane to see the semi in front of me was stopped too. My options would have been swerve into traffic to my left or a concrete wall to my right. I just slammed on my brakes and the Q5 stopped within inches of the truck. There was smoke and screeching tires involved, and a new pair of pants required.
You know the trolley problem, right? Where a trolley is headed down the tracks, en route to hit five people, but you can pull a lever and switch tracks so it only hits one? If you had also set the trolley on that path to begin with, and then had to choose between traffic or a Jersey barrier tracks, what might that be called?
Driving my Elise out in the country, following an F-150. As it goes into the right turn lane at a T-junction, I continue on in the main lane as it slows down. Now because I’m in an Elise behind an F-150, the guy turning left from the connecting road at the junction doesn’t see me, though I had seen him on approach before the F-150 moved over. So he starts his left turn with, I dunno, maybe 100 ft between me and him (hard to say since I’m not good at judging distances on that scale). I see him pop out from behind the F-150 and immediately slam on the brakes from 60 mph. I triggered the ABS, in an Elise on Direzza ZIIs set to autocross pressures mind-you, and executed a perfect slalom maneuver to avoid his rear corner by 2-3 feet as well as the ditch after the intersection. If I had been driving the Volvo I had at the time, the guy would probably be dead. If I hadn’t had a couple seasons of Autocross and track days under my belt at that point, one or both of us might be dead. And thank Christ he didn’t panic-stop halfway through his turn, because my maneuver depended on him obliviously continuing on course.
Seeing and being seen are the hardest things about driving a small car. Even in my old Subaru, a station wagon of not inconsiderable size, I still had situations where street-parked cars forced me to inch out into intersections, totally blind. Still worth it, though.
I live in Washington, DC - every day I get in my car is just a series of near misses with insane drivers/delivery trucks/the 12'o clock boys/scooters/oblivious pedestrians.
Look, as enthusiasts, we all enjoy seeing the occasional dank nooner. But when the squids start messing up traffic patterns for the rest of us, it becomes a problem. Don’t be like the guy in the picture, wear your gear and practice your wheelies in parking lots.