Down Home: Lessons learned from an abrupt stop in the street

Sometimes, I’m amazed at how I can get so stupid so fast.

(OK, I know you’re thinking it: Golly, Marv. We know you well. You’re pretty stupid a bunch of the time.)

My split-second stupidity transpired on an otherwise lovely evening. I’ve been picking up the pieces ever since.

That particular night, I discussed the Baptist Standard and our ministry with the board and staff leaders the Baptist Foundation of Texas—a room full of extremely bright and engaging folks. We talked about the changing dynamics of the newspaper industry, as well as its impact on churches and communities. We considered the past and speculated about the future. We even mixed in some Calvinism and Arminianism, which may have been preordained or due to our own free will.

Heading home

We gathered in a restaurant in uptown Dallas. Heading home, I stopped at a red light, facing south. I eventually needed to turn north onto Interstate 35, known locally as Stemmons Freeway.

That part of the city includes some winding streets, as well as a few that—because of the winding ones—shift from two-way to one-way.

As I waited on the light, I surveyed the tangle of streets to my right. How far south should I drive to get around American Airlines Center, sprawling between Stemmons and me?

When the light changed, I started to cross the street and stared into headlights traveling straight toward me. Instinctively, I sensed I missed a big red sign saying this street shifted one-way northbound. Instantly, I did what came naturally. Turned left.

My abrupt turn shocked the driver in the black Porsche just behind me to my left. He apparently knew the street does, indeed, turn one-way northbound—not there, but in the next block. What he did not know was that I did not know.

A fender bender

And so he looked utterly surprised after his front-right fender slammed into my front-left door. With his bumper maybe eight inches from my ribs, I turned and looked across the hood of his car into his startled eyes.

Fortunately, neither of us was hurt. We pulled over—no, I pulled up, and he pulled over—and sorted out what to do next. I apologized and told him I knew this was all my fault. Then I gave him my contact information, driver’s license number, insurance company’s name and policy number. Actually, I typed all this into his smart phone.

I would say you “had to be there” to understand how this wreck made sense in the nanosecond it happened. But later, I tried to explain it to the other driver. Of course, he was there. I don’t believe he thinks it made sense.

I do think he believed me when I said I was sorry. Maybe not the first time I said I was sorry. By the 15th time, he seemed to be coming around.

Both cars were drivable, and in less than 10 minutes, we each headed our own way. Of course, I turned right at the next corner, because the street turned one-way heading my direction. I know, because a big red sign told me.

Moments later, traffic slowed to a crawl on Stemmons. Two cars had collided, and one skidded into a wall. The crash crushed the front of one car and nearly ripped the back off of the other. I whispered a prayer, thanking God my wreck happened at less than 10 miles per hour on a side street, not at full speed on one of the busiest freeways in Texas.

Thank God for insurance

Now, my car is out of the shop, and the other driver confirmed my insurance company has agreed to cover all the repairs on his car. Thank God for whoever invented insurance.

And, ironically, thank God for an accident that reminded me …

• Never take life, safety and even a lovely evening out to dinner for granted.

• We live in a car culture, but cars are just things. The people who drive and ride in them really matter.

• At a stop light, always take time to look down the street.