I remember driving on I-285 – the beltway around Atlanta, around 20 years ago – taking my daughter to a soccer game she was playing in.
We’re going around 65 mph, not much traffic – it was a Saturday morning around 9:00am. I was in the right lane because I was planning to get off at the next exit, about 2 miles ahead.
In the mirror, I could see a small white compact – maybe a Toyota, maybe a Subaru, coming up behind us going at a high rate of speed – easily 10–15 mph faster than I was going. No problem, I thought – the highway was mostly clear and he could easily pass me. I was about to get off the highway in a minute anyway.
He drives past me on the left – that’s fine – and about a second later pulls back into the lane in front of me, still at a high speed. No danger, no big deal.
Except that he continues moving to the right, off the pavement, onto the shoulder, up the hill, and splat into a bridge abutment.
He must have lost control—these were before the days of cell phones – or he was lighting a cigarette and took his eyes off the road – don’t know. But it was weird.
Did I stop? No – I was going 65 mph and nearing my exit and I was past accident before I realized what he did.