I was riding back from Wichita on the Kansas Turnpike on Monday with my boss. It was rainy. Everything seemed fine. In fact, it was fine, except for about 30 seconds of terror. Suddenly, we started hydroplaning. This went on for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably 10 seconds. Even 10 seconds at 70mph means we likely traveled about a quarter mile, out of control and at the mercy of whatever. We were in both lanes of the turnpike, yet we avoided hitting the median barrier and then spun into the ditch.
Amazingly, we avoided colliding with any other vehicles or anything else along the highway. I figured that we were either going to roll or get t-boned by a truck. I really did believe for a second that my end was near, and I thought that there was no way I thought I would die on the Kansas Turnpike in the middle of the Flint Hills. Especially not today. Damned scary. It’s a metaphor for my life the past year.
And I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it this week. I’m fortunate to be alive. It’s made think a lot about leaving this big blue ball and how I will be remembered when I’ve checked out. And how I can make the most of it while I am still here.