If you’ve driven on an Interstate Highway in the US, you‘ve seen it. It’s nearly everywhere. It’s so common that maybe you’ve gotten to the point where your mind, on a conscious level, doesn’t even register its presence. And no, I’m not talking about kudzu!
I’m talking about rubber. You know - strips and chunks and pieces of old tires. These are the sad and forgotten remains of tires whose “lives” came to an unexpected end while their owners were driving down the Interstate – drivers with apparently no thought, drivers with apparently no idea that one of their tires was about to come to the end of its earthly existence right there on the Interstate. Each of the owners of these tires found themselves “in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye” [see 1 Corinthians 15:52] facing the consequences of the sudden and unexpected “passing” of a tire from this “life” to whatever “next life” there might be for old tires. If you’ve ever experienced such a “passing” while driving at highway speeds, you know that a blow-out like this can put the driver in danger of losing control of the vehicle, and suddenly, all of the potential horrible consequences that arise from the loss of control of a vehicle at highway speeds are thrust into the hands, feet and mind of the driver. And the potential horrible consequences of a tire blow-out at highway speeds include the fact that the tire “shrapnel” also puts other nearby drivers at risk.
One way or another, it’s all going to be over in a few terror-filled seconds. And whether the driver manages to regain control of the vehicle and the other drivers also emerge safely, or whether the incident becomes just another statistic for the Department of Public Safety and The State Police, it appears that one of the sad facts of these incidents is that the remains of the blown-out tire – those strips and chunks and pieces of rubber – will lie wherever the laws of physics and momentum leave them. And there those strips and chunks and pieces stay, seemingly forever based upon how much of it is out there on the Interstate Highways - an eternal silent witness to and testimony of a potentially horrible event.
Why bring up such things? Last week’s writing here was at least the second or third time I have written about the brevity of life, and how The Lord wants us to look for and find wisdom in the knowledge that life is uncertain. You’d think I might be figuring this out by now.
Yet, even as I was driving last week to attend the funeral I wrote of last week, I was given another reminder of these things. An 18-wheeler passed me, and then got back into the lane and continued to move ahead. This truck was maybe 50 yards in front of me when one of its 18 tires blew out. I saw it explode. And I immediately saw gigantic strips and chunks and pieces of rubber fly out from under the truck - seemingly taking aim right at me.
It’s strange what passes through your mind in those few, terror-filled seconds. People say that your whole life flashes in front of your eyes in such moments. Maybe so, but that’s not what happened to me. Instead, I thought of the crazy movie “Dodgeball”, and I figured that I was going to put to use, as they said in that movie, “the five ‘d’s’ of dodgeball – dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge.” And then [or maybe at the same time?], something from my former life as a lawyer popped into my mind. I recalled the legal principle of the “Sudden Emergency Doctrine” – when a driver is suddenly confronted with an emergency not of his own making, he will not be held responsible for any damages he causes if he chooses a course of action in trying to escape the emergency that, in hind-sight, was not the wisest choice. This gave me some comfort as I dodged, ducked, dipped, dived and dodged in an effort to avoid the tire “shrapnel” while hoping not to hit any of the other vehicles that were, at that same moment, dodging, ducking, dipping, diving and dodging all over the highway themselves.
I told you it was strange.
Anyway, I somehow managed to get through those terror-filled seconds without injury, and without damage to my vehicle. But, once again, I was shown the incredible fragility of human life. The ending could so easily have been something much worse. I thought I understood this when I wrote last week’s piece. I thought I understood this when I wrote the other pieces on this subject. Is there a way to somehow communicate to God – “OK, OK, I get it; can we stop the object lessons now!”?
Maybe this is not some great spiritual plan to teach me something that I am having a hard time comprehending. Maybe this all just coincidence. Maybe?
As we lawyers like to say: “In any event” – at least one point in all this is that I will never be able to see those strips and chunks and pieces of old tires on the Interstate anymore without being reminded that each such pile of rubber debris marks the location of a few terror-filled seconds for someone, perhaps even their completely unexpected and unanticipated last seconds on this earth. Maybe at least one point in all this is that now I will really understand that life is a fragile gift. Maybe at least one point in all this is that now I will stop taking life for granted. I’m going to hope, and pray, and commit to that.
And now, whenever you see strips and chunks and pieces of rubber on the Interstate, maybe you will too.
Ambrose Ramsey | Shepherd
