Found on Ask Reddit
When I was 16 I was going home from work late at night and needed to swing by the gas station. I was getting ready to make a left turn into the station and waited for a few motorcycles to pass and i looked down the road to clear the turn and saw a single light from a motorcycle about a mile away so I went ahead and made the turn. About halfway through the turn I saw the light getting brighter and noticed the guy was maybe 3 feet away from my car. That’s when time began to slow down as I stomped on the gas to try to get out of the way. It was unfortunately too late as his body hit the side of my car completely shoving to the side. I got out and he just layed crushed in the street.
The gas station was very busy so a crowd immediately formed around the man and cops and ambulance came. He died a few hours later in the hospital.
After the accident I just sat on the side of the road thinking well I’m going to prison I just killed a dude, very much in shock and a bystander came up to me and said “do you see what you did!!? Go see what you did!” I wasn’t really responsive at this time. After detectives came and talked to people i found out the guy was going well over 150mph on a bike trying to catch up to his friends and when I pulled out he didn’t slow down but apparently ditched his bike and only his body hit my car. Turns out if he stayed on his bike he would have missed me completely. I was bothered for some time but have come to accept that this kind of crazy shit happens, just have to carry on.
I used to be an airline pilot for a relatively large regional airline. Because I didn’t make much money doing it, I worked as a flight instructor on my days off from the airline.
One day a student of mine and I were up practicing some maneuvers over an area with a lot of trees.
As we were finishing up and about to go back to the airport, our engine started acting weird. It was a bit rough and we lost RPM. No big deal, I thought, I figured we were just running the mixture too lean, so I enriched it and had no improvement.
I started heading towards a field we passed a couple miles back. It wasn’t big but it was our best shot if things got worse as the airport was something like 15 miles away.
The engine only got worse. I was having trouble maintaining altitude and I radioed in a mayday call with our position.
Eventually, the engine died completely. I tried a restart but nothing worked. As we were lining up our final approach, we made sure the airplane was secured and all that.
Turns out the field was a lot smaller than I thought. We touched down and it was extremely rough. I had a lot of pressure on the breaks, trying to not lock them. The trees were coming up very fast and I decided we weren’t going to stop so I tried to get the airplane back on it’s front wheels and slam on the breaks to make it flip so we could at least stop.
I thought about it too late and we smashed straight into a big tree. I can’t remember very clearly getting out but I do remember seeing my student in the front seat slouched over with his head to the side. I tried to yell for him to get out and realized his eyes were open. The local police arrived within minutes of us touching down and later they said they saw us coming in.
They got my student out and took me to a hospital to be looked at and X-Ray’d because I had bad pain in my neck and back. They pronounced my student dead at the scene. His neck snapped on impact.
I didn’t have any legal action taken against me or anything, the NTSB and FAA said that I did the right thing in the situation. I just wish I could’ve gotten the plane flipped over. I feel guilty. His wife blamed me and tried suing me.
I have extreme anxiety and don’t fly anymore. I wish I could bring myself to do it because I truly loved it.
I work construction now because I have always loved building stuff and fixing up the house. I’m 36 years old now and have it on my bucket list to fly one last time.
It has been 8 years and I still think about it every single day. I get anxiety when driving at night or in bad whether or if other people are in the car. I’ve recently started receiving some therapy, and it has helped a bit, but at this point I can’t imagine not feeling guilty.
I was the driver in a car accident in which my best friend died. She was one of the 5 passengers. We were 19 and I was the designated driver after a night out, so i was sober. I was driving my roommates car and when getting onto the interstate I got too close to the rail on the side and overcorrected. I lost control of the car and it flipped.
Everyone else was relatively unscratched. Two people received a few stitches, but that’s it. This friend and another passenger were riding in the very back of the SUV. The friend had also borrowed my roommates car a few days earlier, and she had picked up these large cement pieces that are sidewalk inlays that have the name of streets in the city in which we lived, and those giant cement pieces were still in the back where they were sitting. She sustained most of her injuries from those cement blocks.
She lived to make it to the hospital and her parents were able to get there, but the injuries were so extensive that the doctors said she would be in a vegetative state if they could even save her. Her parents opted out of that option. She would have hated to “live” like that.
I would give anything to go back to that night. I would take a different route home or not joined them at all. I miss her a lot.
A very drunk guy tripped off the sidewalk into 5 o’clock traffic, right in front of me. Not enough time to stop. He was limp enough that when I hit him with my SUV, he wrapped up on my back right tire. I stopped the SUV, got out, and found him wrapped up like a burrito. So many broken bones, blood everywhere but his head was resting at 10 o’ clock on the tire. Was in the process of reaching to touch him, just a few inches away, and I saw him breathe. I started crying, went up to the sidewalk and went into shock. After firefighters/cops/ambulance came by, took the report, and I was taken back to my apt from a friend. Spent that weekend at their place, and they drove the SUV to my apt beforehand. But it took over a week for me to be able to drive the SUV again. 2 weeks later, was told the vehicle was a crime scene so cops took it for another day, but deemed it not needed. Found out the parents were trying to sue me, but due to the 5 witnesses at the location (which I didn’t even know) they vouched for me, the toxicology reading he was at .25 alcohol level at death, and he had Hep C. One of the firefighters caught that when they were removing him due to all the blood and the parent’s did know about (most likely due to drugs). So they dropped the case. I will never drive on the sidewalk side of the road, unless it’s a one way, and I still hug towards the interior and tend to swerve if people are on the sidewalk. This occurred 12 years ago.
It wasn’t my fault, but when I used to drive a wheelchair transport van, a bracket that holds the wheelchairs down failed. The guy tipped over enough to hit his head on a cross brace when I turned a corner. He had a degenerative disease, and had fragile bones. He ended up in the hospital, and never recovered. Passed a few days later.
The last I heard, the company that made the brackets ended up changing their design because the accident unveiled a flaw in their design.
I think about it a lot, because a person died who was in my care. I don’t feel guilty about it or anything, There was nothing I could have done differently; something just broke. It’s still a bummer when I think about it though.
About five years ago I hit an old lady in the street while I was on my motorcycle. I believe she was dead on the scene, but wasn’t pronounced dead until the hospital.
I wasn’t drinking or speeding, she just ran across the street chasing the bus. I’ll always remember the instant she turned to look at me before I hit her.
It definitely shook me up, and I’m rather sensitive to crossing the street, especially jaywalking or outside of a crosswalk. Every once in a while I get flash backs and kind of shudder, just remembering everything, replaying it over and over. I still live near where it happened and have to drive the street occasionally.
I always am cautious now in areas with lots of pedestrians, watching carefully to make sure no one is crossing. I think it didn’t help that at the spot I hit her, I have had cars or people try to cross before, cutting me off. I remember the day it happened I was driving slower then I might usually because I knew it was a trouble spot. There’s still that what if I hadn’t driven it or what if I saw her before she started crossing. I’ll always have that with me, knowing she died and her kids and grandkids never saw her again. Knowing she was just trying to get to work to provide for her family, only to get killed by someone else on his way to work. It sucks.
I’ve never spoken to her family, though her son was at the scene that day, and I can’t imagine what they went through, but I hope they know it wasn’t intentional or negligent on my part. And I hope they are doing ok. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to meet them, I don’t know what I would say or do.
So I hope this counts but I understand if it gets removed. When I was 6 I got a full sized snickers bar while trick or treating. My mom was on the front step hanging out with our neighbor Tom (eta:an adult) and I remember showing them my chocolate bar and him being impressed that I got a full sized. He told me it was his favorite and I really don’t like snickers so I gave it to him. He acted so excited and said he was gonna hide later and eat it so he wouldn’t have to share.
The next day Tom was found dead in the bathroom from complications of type 1 diabetes. When I asked my mom what that meant she said (because I was 6) that it means he can’t have sugar. I genuinely believed for about 6 years that I killed the man. I figured he hid in the bathroom and are all that sugar and died and I felt guilty for 6 years. I had trouble hanging out with his kids and then when they went to juvenile detention centers I felt like I personally ruined their lives with the chocolate bar because they were stuck with their bat shit crazy mom now.
It wasn’t until I met a kid with diabetes who kept yoohoos in his desk that I realized they can and should have sugar. I asked my health teacher about it and she started to explain and I started to freak out. Sobbing shaking 12 year old reaction so they called my mom and she came to get me. I just kept trying to tell her I didn’t kill Tom and she was like “sweetie I know, he was an alcoholic and it killed him”.
So I didn’t actually kill someone but I believed I did
Several years ago I accidentally killed two kids. I was driving on the highway and my front right tire exploded, this caused me to lose control of my car. When my car swerved it went into the opposite lane of traffic, slamming into the rear side of a car.
After the accident, I was emotional destroyed for months, I would never get into a car not even as passenger anyone time would try and coax me into one I would have a small breakdown.
A week after the accident the parents of the kids, who were also in the car but somehow relatively unharmed invited me to their kids’ funeral. I went expecting them hurl every insult imaginable at me, possibly the father of my victims would even beat the shit out of me, no matter what the said or did to me I would have deserved. But when I got there the both came up to me and immediately hugged me and told me it wasn’t my fault. Here were two people’s whose lives I had essentially ruined and they were trying to mend my broken heart, when it should have been the reverse. The moment they said those words to me was like some indescribable pain because I knew I didn’t deserve such kindness, especially from them.
To this day I still do not drive, though I do get into cars where other people are driving though it causes me great anxiety. I also go to therapy weekly, and have moved from the suburbs to the city so I can live a daily life that does not require having a personal vehicle because I just can’t ever see myself behind the wheel again.
I will forever regret that day and would gladly give my life if it meant those kids could be alive again, but unfortunately life isn’t ever that fair.
Without a doubt one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through.
I was driving to meet my mom for dinner near her work after class. It was maybe 7pm. I typically take the highway when heading out that way, but it was a nice day so I decided to take the back roads.
Along the way, there was a cyclist going along, I noticed him, but he was in the bike lane which was decently sized. The road was 45 mph, but I had slowed down some, as I got closer I made sure to get closer to the center line to give him some space.
Then, once I’m barely a few yards from the guy, he decided to turn directly in front of my car. He didn’t make any indication that he would be turning, he didn’t so much as look, and there wasn’t an intersection in the area. But nonetheless here he was directly in the path of my car. With barely a few feet separating us.
I remember very distinctly everything seeming to slow down. I reflexively slammed onto my breaks as hard as I physically could. I watched in agony as my car screeched towards him.
The last thing I remember is his body coming up onto my windshield, the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass, and the blood.
Supposedly, I had called the cops hysterically begging for help. When they had arrived I was on the ground, kneeling next to the man sobbing, as he lay face down on the sidewalk, not moving. He was pronounced dead at the scene.
After the accident, I went numb. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I was so naseous I could barely stand.
And in the few moments when I could get myself together I was forced to have the same conversation over and over with police, lawyers, detectives, on what had happened. Always pressing for more details. It was tortuous and felt never ending.
Months later, after the investigation was concluded, I learned that the cyclist, apart from not wearing a helmet, was a homeless drug addict, and was likely high on herion at the time of the accident.
But that didn’t come out until months after it had happened. It had been published in the local papers that a cyclist had been killed in a car accident. It was a big story for the town and I saw it everywhere online. I know I shouldn’t have, but I would read the comments people left on the article. All saying things like ‘the driver was probably texting’, ‘it’s so unsafe out there for cyclists’, and other things insinuating that it was my fault.
I internalized it. Even though I’m absolutely certain I was paying attention, part of me keeps thinking thoughts about how I might’ve looked down at some point to perhaps adjust the radio and I didn’t see his signal. That I missed my opportunity to avoid this. That somehow it is my fault.
For a long time after the accident I was very far from okay. I was dependent on sleeping pills to get any sleep at all, and my appetite dwindled. Every time I got into a car, even if I wasn’t driving, I felt panicked.
A few years later, and after a lot of intensive therapy, and now I’m mostly okay. I still have occasional nightmares, and can remember the sounds like it just happened. I haven’t fully forgiven myself for it, and I’m not sure if I ever will. But it doesn’t stop me from living my day to day life anymore.
I am a surgical resident in the United States, and I lost a patient that I know was my fault. I can’t go into much detail due to patient privacy, but I can say she was a young woman with a husband and young kids who was in for routine weight loss surgery. She had a complication the day after surgery, but I was on hour 36 of a long weekend call and I missed it when I checked on her. She coded and died, we managed to get her to the OR and re operate, but she languished for weeks in the SICU. We eventually had to withdraw care, and I’ll never forget the heartbreak in her husbands eyes. He told me he forgave me, but I never forgave myself. After all, she was having the surgery to keep up with her young kids and I took that from them. I had a head injury that took me out for a few months earlier in the year, and those two traumas combined sent me on a deep spiral. I started drinking and doing terrible at work. I couldn’t sleep and I had nightmares. I developed a deep anxiety and depression, and I ended up losing my fiancé of four years as well as most recently my job. It’s been 2.5 hard years, and my depression just lost me my current girlfriend. I started counseling this week to recover, and I’m hopefully going to be able to salvage my career. I already feel better. I guess to answer the question, the death has destroyed my life. But I’m determined to pick up the pieces and not let it destroy my future.
When I was 17 I hit a guy on a bike on my way home from my girlfriends house. It was a foggy night and he was drunk riding with no lights on his bike in the middle of the lane on a dark road. It was super fucked up and I remember being in complete shock and just immediately calling 911. I had two a days for my senior year of football starting the Monday after it happened, I still went but had a hard time focusing on sports because things seemed unimportant to me after realizing how fleeting life is. That stayed with me for a while and led to Xanax abuse. But I’m all good now at 22 been clean from xans for a year and have a good job.
Had a detainee who neglected to mention a peanut allergy. When he got his halal meal he only ate the peanuts. Went into anaphylaxis and the MPs called me, the medic. I popped him with epi and loaded in some IV benadryl. It goes from “dude might die without attention” to me slicing open his trachea to get air into his lungs. Still a no go. Apparently he was also highly allergic to benadryl, which I pumped straight into his heart.
I think about it occasionally, but it doesnt really bother me. He might have just wanted to have a minor reaction to go to the hospital, or he might have been trying to off himself. Either way, dude made bomb vests in the XS variety so I don’t lose sleep over it.
I’ve posted this before but When I was 18 I was in a car accident. I was living on my own, driving home after a busy day.
I was driving home around 11pm on a Friday night on the road which is 55mph. I’m maybe going 60mph. As I was going around a bend, a car ran the stop sign on the left and I T-boned him.
My car flips over and I land on my hood.
I had damaged his car pretty bad.
I don’t think he was killed instantly, but he didn’t live to see the ambulance.
I was sleep deprived but I hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel and I wasn’t drinking.
I went to the hospital with nothing but a fat lip.
The family of the other driver tried to sue me for speeding and reckless driving. Luckily my insurance told them to buzz off (the threat of being sued at 18 is frightening.)
After the fact I learned that he hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt during the crash and his car should not have passed inspection. I didn’t learn that he had died until the next day.
I have a little more anxiety driving now, but I’m not really affected by it anymore. I don’t blame myself for anything. It was a tough thing to go through but I actually learned a lot about myself from the experience.
I was an infantry Marine, and participated in the Iraq invasion in 2003. The Tip of the Spear, they liked to call it. First ground forces to cross into Iraqi territory, started at the Kuwait border and ended up in Baghdad. We accidentally killed noncombatants constantly during the initial weeks of fighting, and toward the end of the invasion there were a growing number of Marines perfectly willing to shoot women, children and the elderly on purpose. Nothing unusual about any of that in war. No surprise either, i suppose, that all who fought with me have had incredibly fucked up lives since they came back to society. Some guys i know have killed themselves, or tried to, in horribly creative ways. A marine from my platoon tried to blow his head off by setting off a piece of det-cord inside his own mouth – a type of exploding wire used to detonate C4 charges. It only took off most of his jaw and face, hes still alive. Another former platoon-mate put a shotgun in his own mouth and was far more successful. The lesson here, redditors, is that when we dehumanized others so that we could mass murder them – casually, meticulously, professionally – we dehumanized ourselves, we sullied our Marine Corps with the stain of that dishonest and futile war, and we betrayed the very ideals for which we pledged to kill and die in the first place. When you gaze into the abyss, amirite? I guess you could say i spend a fair amount of time thinking about all of it.
While I was living with my Uncle, I gave him some 100 mg morphine pills. He already had hepatitis C from intravenous drug use. The next morning I woke up to him non responsive convulsing on the couch. I was nervous to call 911 because we were growing weed and mushrooms in the house at the time and he was a convicted felon. If he would have survived, he probably would have gone back to prison. Called 911 after a few minutes of frantic pacing and paramedics showed up. He died in the ambulance in front of the house. I’m positive that the pills I gave him ended his life.
When I was a teenager I lived in a state that had very lax gun laws. I thought guns were cool and my parents thought I was a responsible person so they bought me a rifle and 2 handguns. I was generally responsible with them: always carried them unloaded, cleaned them, only shot them in the target range my father built, always kept them and the ammunition locked up. I had them for 2 years and these safety precautions were drilled into me by my father to the point where they were ingrained habits that I never skipped.
One night a friend of mine was staying over and we were in my room just hanging out. Sometimes we would take out the revolver and practice twirling it on our fingers, quick drawing, stuff like that. This night my friend wanted to do that but instead of taking it out myself, I gave them the key. They took it out and were twirling it around. Then I took my turn. While I was fiddling with it, it went off and hit my friend. I ran out of the room screaming. The police were called and my friend was taken to the hospital where they were pronounced dead.
To this day I have no idea how a live round was in that gun. I was sitting three feet away from my when they took it out of the lockbox it was in, so I’m certain they didn’t put one in. I always checked the gun when I took it out and before I put it away. My friend didn’t check when they took it out that night and I didn’t want to yell at them. We both had just went shooting the day before and I remember checking the gun before putting it back because I was explaining to my friend what the safety procedures were and we went over checking when putting it away. The only other person who had a key to the box was my father and he said that he hadn’t touched the guns.
After that I was a complete emotional wreck. I was basically catatonic for months. It was near the end of the school year and I don’t remember taking finals, or if I had to make them up, or just got excused, its a total blank. I was prosecuted and represented by the PD. I went to the court dates and sentencing but I remember exactly zero of this. I don’t remember what the ultimate charge/plea deal was but I was sentenced to 1000 hours of community service so I suspect it was a firearm charge of some kind. My parents lost the paperwork in a move a while back and have since passed away. The court doesn’t have records going that far back so I have no way to see what my charge was or what the testimony or evidence consisted of.
I wasn’t a super popular person to begin with in school and after this I was less so. There were some people that became my friends after this, but most of the people I was friends shunned me. It was a small town and everyone knew everything about everyone else. The parents of one of my closest friends even forbade me to go over their house or for them to come over mine. I thought that was harsh at the time, but now that I’m a parent myself, I totally understand.
After high school I developed a bit of a drinking problem and would always get emotional and incoherently sob about this event in my life to the people I was around. But I stopped drinking shortly thereafter. I’ve had a few SO’s that I’ve told when things got a bit serious and they broke up with me shortly afterwards (never outright telling me this was the reason, but the timing was too coincidental). So I stopped telling anyone. I stopped thinking about it. Eventually I made my piece with it I guess. This was decades ago and I only think about it ocassionally now. I have a spouse, and kids and have mostly moved on with my life. But I do not like guns. I have never owned nor touched a firearm since. I did not allow my children to have or use guns while they were young. I always asked if the parents of my children’s friends owned guns and how they were stored before allowing them over.
All of this was over three decades ago and I will always blame myself because I didn’t check the gun when my friend got it out. I will always blame myself (and my parents a bit) for being so cavalier with firearms and ammunition and acting so recklessly with them. I will always wonder how that round got in the gun and whether my father took it out and forgot his own rules (despite his denials), if my friend put it in slyly (for some unfathomable reason), or if I overlooked it (even though I clearly remember checking). I will never know how this happened but will carry the guilt for the rest of my life.
I was in a traffic accident. Ahead of me was a green light and wanted to make a right turn. [This happened in Australia; we drive on the left so a right turn goes across a lane.] I was approaching a turn, and just before I entered the intersection the green turning arrow went yellow. I saw no oncoming traffic, there were cars stopped on the other side of the intersection at a red light. Just as I’m about to exit the intersection, completing the turn, there is a collision. The car is pushed, or spun. The windscreen cracks completely so I can’t see though it. I’m not sure what’s happened, but I know I’ve hit something, somehow. My girlfriend was in the front passenger seat on the side of impact. She was crying, and I didn’t know at the time if she was injured. I was unharmed, save for very small cuts from the broken glass. The front of the car was falling apart, there was smoke coming out of the dash board. People ran over and pried open the doors, and ushered us out of the car. Only when I got out did I see what I had hit.
It was a motorbike. The rider had been speeding, and entered the intersection on a red light. His motorbike was some 10 meters away, and he was on the ground. Several people had ran over to him while others were trying to get me and my girlfriend out of the car. I ask someone by my car if he was alright. He replied “nah mate, he’s dead.” Yeah, that wasn’t helpful at all, but thanks.
An ambulance quickly arrived and the paramedics went to work on him. Meanwhile a lady helped me and my girlfriend off the road and tried to help us stay calm. She held and hugged my girlfriend, who had said nothing so far, just cried.
Police arrived too, asked preliminary questions, while the cyclist was rushed to hospital in the ambulance. We were not far from my girlfriend’s house; the lady called her parents and they were on the scene quickly. Her mum already didn’t like me, but her Dad was alright. After checking on her, he checked on me. He was quite calm, and he rang my parents to let them know what happened.
Eventually a policeman took me to the station for me to give my statement. I tried my best to relay what had happened, but had to guess a lot of the exact distances involved. They were understanding and helped to complete my statement. Then I was taken into another room where I waited for a while for a nurse to come. They needed a blood sample, standard procedure apparently. My parents had been told where I was taken to, and the policeman brought them into the room and told me that paramedics and doctors were not able to resuscitate the rider, and he died in hospital.
I went home that day. Based on my statement and the statements of several witnesses to the accident, the Police’s initial assessment was that the cyclist was more responsible for the accident than I was. That helped. Eventually the police report was finished, and the insurance company refunded the excess since I was not being held at fault.
For a week or two I would continuously replay the accident in my head, and wonder if there was anything I could have done differently. Was I distracted talking to my girlfriend? (I should mention that she was not seriously injured, but has had problems with her shoulder, requiring physiotherapy) Did I not look far enough ahead when checking for oncoming traffic? Could I have stopped in time as soon as the light went yellow? I wasn’t sure if I could have done anything differently, but the thought was still on my mind.
I tried to think about the accident as little as possible,and while I didn’t think I was to blame, it still was troubling to think that if I had not been there making that turn, the man would still be alive. I know nothing about him, I don’t know what family he had, how old he was, what he did for work or with his free time. I never heard from his family, suing for damages or anything like that.
Thankfully I was able to put it out of my mind once the Police report was finished months later. During that time I didn’t experience distressing flashbacks or nightmares, but I was quieter than normal. But now it’s not something I think about much. I do have other problems now, namely depression and chronic fatigue. One evening I was happy and normal, and the next morning I felt so exhausted I couldn’t get out of bed by myself. After a month or so of severe fatigue my mood dropped as well. There was no apparent trigger that caused this, but some medical professionals have thought that perhaps the accident subconsciously played a part, though that hasn’t been properly explored yet. So at this point, it’s hard to say how it has impacted my life in the long term.
I think my girlfriend blamed me for a while. She would bring it up in conversation casually, not angrily, but would use words like “you were the one driving,” or “if you hadn’t…” It hurt to hear, but she eventually stopped bringing it up, and after the police report was finished I think she accepted that I wasn’t to blame. We sort of ignored it and got on with our lives. After I fell into depression I started to become apathetic about almost everything, including that relationship. We eventually split up amicably. I think that we weren’t right for each other and would have parted ways eventually, but depression brought issues to light and I didn’t have the energy or the desire to fight to fix them, and she grew tired of feeling like the only one trying.
If the accident did trigger my depression and chronic fatigue in some delayed fashion, then it’s impacted me a lot. It brought an end to a relationship, it pulled me out of university, I’m no longer active at my church and don’t see most of my friends at all. I’m not driving anymore, and haven’t in a while. Partly because I don’t need to at the moment, and partly because in my fatigued state I don’t think it would be safe. I mightn’t react as quickly as I would if I were healthy. Maybe this wouldn’t have troubled me if the accident never occurred.
It feels like my life is on pause at the moment, not making progress towards any of the goals I had for my life. But I don’t know for certain that the accident did trigger this response from my body, months later. Excluding potentially causing major health issues, the accident doesn’t affect me anymore. I don’t bring it up in conversation, not that I have many of them these days, but also wouldn’t shy away from it if it did come up. It feels wrong to no longer be phased by an incident which claimed a man’s life, but I think it’s probably healthier than the opposite.
This ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would, so props to you if you’ve read the whole thing. Sorry for spending so much time describing what happened rather than answering the question of how it has impacted me. I don’t really want to end with a sappy message or moral to the story, but please wear seat belts, please obey lights, and please don’t speed. At high speed, you may be able to drive safely, but you won’t be able to stop safely.