I offer a non-climbing anecdote: I run a small business, and an unfortunate requirement for part of it is some specialized heavy hauling via tractor-trailer. In 1996, I rode along as passenger with a new driver in a brand-new Freightliner, so that I could oversee some instrumentation at his destination. The driver had a lot of experience coming to us, and said he knew the route well.
Forty-five minutes into the route, I stopped chatting with the driver and started reading...the next thing I knew, we were blazing toward a well-marked 25 mph curve at 45, and despite my yell and his braking, we went into the turn way too fast. In what seemed like several long seconds, there was this slow, lifting motion as the truck went up onto its right tires, headed for a roll-over. I had plenty of time to accurately anticipate that we were definitely going over, and to think about it in some kind of warp-speed way, which is why I am posting this.
People wonder about those few seconds before death. On airplanes, I have wondered before if, were an imminent crash to materialize, I could make peace with myself before the moment of truth. I believe I had a close enough brush to at least partially know the answer.
I can tell you that I was fairly certain that it was coming, that day, within a couple of seconds, in a sudden, capricious smash. My life did not play before my eyes like a movie. And I can't say that I made peace with the circumstances. I remember what came out of my mouth was "NO..NO..NO!!" as we rolled over. At first I had an overwhelming sense of injustice, which I am not prone to having. I didn't have to conjure up picture of my wife, business, and life I would be leaving behind---it was somehow all imbedded in the instantaneous sense of injustice. In reality, my position in the passenger seat rotated downward as we rolled. But I had the sensation of first going upward, then a hard pitch downward, much like going over-the-falls in a wave. Just before we landed, I balled up instinctively with my hands pressed hard over my eyes, and squinted my eyes hard shut. I distinctly remember bargaining with myself (or maybe God), that if I could survive and lose just an arm or leg, I'd accept it. So in some way, I guess I arrived at a tentative peace.
We landed on my side of the truck, and skidded with terrible noise for about 35 or 40 feet along the pavement. There was a screeching and buckling as the truck deformed and the trailer came apart, and also a deafening roar from the pavement in my right ear, which was at the end of the skid less than six inches from my head. When we came to a stop, I opened my eyes and realized that I was alive. I moved my limbs, realized I had them, and looked at the driver. Somehow I knew he was fine, which he was although he looked like a wild-eyed zombie. I screamed to him "We're alive!" but he didn't say anything.
It wasn't over until I was out of the cab. Once I got loose from the seatbelt, and crouched, I realized I was stuck in the badly-deformed cab that was now sideways. The hood had bent in such a way that looking through the windshield, I saw the engine and a stream of diesel fuel pulsing out of a broken injector line. I didn't think it would ignite, but it definitely sped our exit from the cab. I pulled the driver into the same upright position as me, and tried to open his door upward toward the sky. This of course didn't work, but I quickly rolled the window down, scrambled out, and helped pull the driver out behind me.
It was then that I started jumping up and down, screaming "I fucking made it! I fucking made it!" Within a few minutes, we were assisted by first passers-by and then a highway patrolman.
Neither the driver nor I had serious injuries. I had cuts on my face and arms from flying glass, and I do have some neck pain that I feel damn lucky to have gotten away with as my only problem. I have never had nightmares or worries about the incident. I do, however, appreciate the value of seatbelts... and all that I could have lost that day.
