Actually, I think there has been only one moment when I have consciously stared death in the face. I'm sure there have been times when the grim reaper's sword has narrowly missed me, but I haven't been aware of it. This was through no fault of my own either.
The time I do remember, was back around 1973. I think that was the year. Anyway it was long before there were nice connecting motorways all over the place, and I was on my way to London. I'd driven down the M6 to somewhere north of Birmingham and was crossing over to the M1 on the A45, or so I remember. Anyway in those days, I drove a Ford Escort van. I came to an uphill section just as I came up behind a large articulated lorry. There was plenty of room to overtake it, and no oncoming traffic in view, however as I began to overtake, I saw that the lorry was driving right on the tail of a second one, so close that I hadn't seen the leading vehicle. There was still no oncoming traffic so I carried on, thinking I could get past both lorries in one go. However, just as I got level with the gap between the two, another truck appeared coming flat out towards me. There was clearly no time to get past my leading lorry, so I started indicating that I needed to pull into the gap. Instead of the rear lorry making room for me, he just carried on, leaving me hanging out on the wrong side of the road. I then decided - if that's the right word - to force the gap open by nudging in towards the cab of the trailing lorry, while meanwhile the approaching truck is making no attempt to brake and is nearly on top of me. Only when I heard the massive wheelnuts of the lorry beside me scoring the side of my van, did I realise that nothing would make him give way, and that I now had almost no options left. Good luck rather than good judgement make me slam the brakes on, the lorry whizzed up the inside of my van, and at the last possible second, I swerved in behind him as the downhill truck roars past blowing its air-horns, and with the driver waving two fingers at me and bawling invective.
I then trailed the lorries to the top of the hill, where they stopped. I stopped too and went to speak to the drivers. I asked "why wouldn't you let me in?". The driver from the back truck said "Can't you see, he's got a bit of summat loose on the back of his lorry. If it had fallen off it could have been dangerous!". I think I thought about calling the police or getting insurance details or whatever, but it was in the days long before mobile phones, and I was just glad to have escaped in one piece. I'm not even sure if at that instant I understood just how close I'd come to dying, but in the years since, that scene has come to replay itself more than once, and I'm sure now it was pretty close.
The time I do remember, was back around 1973. I think that was the year. Anyway it was long before there were nice connecting motorways all over the place, and I was on my way to London. I'd driven down the M6 to somewhere north of Birmingham and was crossing over to the M1 on the A45, or so I remember. Anyway in those days, I drove a Ford Escort van. I came to an uphill section just as I came up behind a large articulated lorry. There was plenty of room to overtake it, and no oncoming traffic in view, however as I began to overtake, I saw that the lorry was driving right on the tail of a second one, so close that I hadn't seen the leading vehicle. There was still no oncoming traffic so I carried on, thinking I could get past both lorries in one go. However, just as I got level with the gap between the two, another truck appeared coming flat out towards me. There was clearly no time to get past my leading lorry, so I started indicating that I needed to pull into the gap. Instead of the rear lorry making room for me, he just carried on, leaving me hanging out on the wrong side of the road. I then decided - if that's the right word - to force the gap open by nudging in towards the cab of the trailing lorry, while meanwhile the approaching truck is making no attempt to brake and is nearly on top of me. Only when I heard the massive wheelnuts of the lorry beside me scoring the side of my van, did I realise that nothing would make him give way, and that I now had almost no options left. Good luck rather than good judgement make me slam the brakes on, the lorry whizzed up the inside of my van, and at the last possible second, I swerved in behind him as the downhill truck roars past blowing its air-horns, and with the driver waving two fingers at me and bawling invective.
I then trailed the lorries to the top of the hill, where they stopped. I stopped too and went to speak to the drivers. I asked "why wouldn't you let me in?". The driver from the back truck said "Can't you see, he's got a bit of summat loose on the back of his lorry. If it had fallen off it could have been dangerous!". I think I thought about calling the police or getting insurance details or whatever, but it was in the days long before mobile phones, and I was just glad to have escaped in one piece. I'm not even sure if at that instant I understood just how close I'd come to dying, but in the years since, that scene has come to replay itself more than once, and I'm sure now it was pretty close.
