A Close Call

It's taken me a few days to get back to the swing of writing this blog.  I've been out of the loop with a considerable number of things going on with my new house and everything else has fallen by the wayside.

I've been quite busy with work too but nothing to write home about, just all work and no play making me a dull Response Plod.

Then came last Thursday morning.  An event which a split second either way could have abruptly altered my life with brutal consequences.

I was travelling back from a night shift after leaving my high speed train from central London behind, I walked to my car in the beautiful 7am sunshine knowing I was going to be off for four days.  Everything in the world looked good and tiredness was far behind.

Off I set for the 20 minute drive which takes me through the Dartford Tunnel.  Yes, dear readers, I live in the Essex area, I will tell you that much.

For those that know the area, I was approaching Junction 1a which is the last exit before the toll booths to take me from Kent to Essex soil.  I was in lane 2 of 4 and ahead in lane 1 were three articulated lorries all close together.

My driver training took over, I held back, checked my off-side and made sure lane 3 was clear in case one of these behemoths attempted to overtake the other.

One pealed off and went up the slip for 1a and I made my approach to the toll booths.

That was when I heard the most awful loud scraping and crashing sound. I turned my radio down and could still hear it, getting louder all the time.  I looked right, nothing.

Then I looked left and saw all hell literally breaking loose.  One of the articulated lorries had some how jack-knifed and the trailer was tipping its load

....straight into my direction.

Out of my left window all I could see were large, long lengths of metal tumbling towards my car.

Instinct took over, I braked hard and yanked the wheel hard right, confident that I knew nothing was there from my check only seconds before.

The first length of metal crashed down right where I had been a split second earlier and rolled backwards before sliding to a stop.  An unfortunate driver behind hitting it.

I turned the wheel again as yet another piece fell and landed right where I should have been.

Thankfully I managed to steer past both pieces.  I checked my mirror before I stopped.  The carriage way was littered with metal.

I managed to avoid being crushed by a 40 ton load of metal which by rights should have landed on my car.

One split second decision probably saved my life or saved me from serious injury.

Thankfully, more by pure luck, no one was seriously injured.  Although the M25 was knackered for the whole day after that.

Normally I'm on autopilot straight after a night shift.  Thankfully because the sun was shining it gave me a little boost and I was a tad more alert than usual.

It just goes to show that despite doing a dangerous job, the real danger is in the returning home from work.

We concentrate so hard in not getting hurt whilst at work, especially when driving on blues and twos that we tend to switch off and take a back seat when coming home.  We relax and think of what we want to do when we get home and usually after a night shift when we are especially tired, is sleep.

They say your life flashes past you before you're about to die, for me, everything just slowed down. It reminded me of the film, The Matrix.

I got into that car to set off for home and remember every little detail of it, the smells, the glint of the sun on the paintwork which I said I would clean over the weekend (and didn't) I remembered saying "bye" to my colleagues and strolled off confident that I would see them again after my rest days.  I remembered the plans my wife and I had with our two young daughters for my days off.

......Who would have thought that just one second could have stopped all of that?