Last Wednesday, I took my poor, sick puppy to the vet, thirty minutes north on the highway.  While we were in the parking lot, a sheriff’s car sped past, probably going no less than 120 miles per hour.  I have never seen a car going that fast in real life.  Ever.  I could not imagine driving that like that on a two-lane highway, where a moment’s hesitation could have fatal results–for both the driver of the sheriff’s car and any others who might be involved.  Later on, we learned that there had been a wreck on down the highway involving a pickup and a semi, where the semi had jackknifed and blocked all southbound lanes.  Still, it doesn’t do much good if you’re in an accident on the way to an accident.

I made the mistake several years back to watch the Final Destination films.  Although the concept was still disturbing, the first film didn’t effect me as much because at the time, I had never been on an airplane.  The second movie terrified me to the point that I went several days without driving, and to this day, if I hear “Highway to Hell” while I’m in a vehicle, I change the channel.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the films, the premise is that someone has a premonition that he will be involved in some horrific accident, and after having said premonition, warns the other victims, and avoids death.  Temporarily.  Death (with a capital D) then circles back around to pick up those he missed.  Not your feel-good family movie.  Wouldn’t recommend it for the kids.  Geez, I wouldn’t recommend it for adults.  What separates this horror flick from all the others:  it highlights the very real dangers in everyday life, and I’m not talking about Death with a sickle.  I’m talking about car crashes, slipping in the shower, or–as the third film shows–falling out of a poorly assembled carnival ride.  I hesitated to include a link to video of the car crash on YouTube–I couldn’t even watch it all the way through–so you can search “Final Destination Car Crash” if you’re really that curious.  Or morbid.  By the time the third film came around, old age and vertigo had ruined my love of roller coasters, but I still couldn’t bring myself to watch it.

While some people find fear exhilarating, I don’t enjoy it that much.  Is this an age thing?  Maybe since I’m getting older, I’m more aware of my inevitable mortality and the realness of pain.

One time, when my best friend and I were sitting in Chicago’s Pizza, we were watching some young guys on television projecting themselves violently off a halfpipe and skidding to a bloody mess at the bottom.  We mutually agreed the sport did not appear either fun or logical.  No offense to you awesome skaterdudes out there, but the guys we were watching were less than awesome.  We also mutually agreed that we would NEVER violently project ourselves off a halfpipe.  Bouncing on a trampoline?  Highly unlikely.  Jumping up and down in place?  Maybe.

What are you afraid of?  Has old age made me a wuss?  Will I ever be able to listen to “Highway to Hell” without thinking of crashing??



If you like the picture, here is the original link.


3 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Stephanie on January 3, 2011 at 7:12 pm

    LOL, I remember that!


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