Shortly after I attained the golden apple of teenage years, my driver’s license, I got into my first accident. This was before cell phones, texting, and GPS. My best friend and I were arguing over which radio station to listen to. In those few  distracting seconds, I looked down to dial the music back to my favorite station and then BOOM! I rear-ended someone. And the windshield actually spider-webbed although it didn’t shatter.

The worst part was explaining to the Police Officer why I didn’t slow down when the car in front of me was clearly stopped. Actually worse still was facing my dad. He was relatively cool since there was an audience, but the moment everyone left, I listened to the mother of all lectures. And I still remember him throwing in, “And your mom says you’re so distant these days. She feels like you’re not talking to her much. And that hurts…both of us.”

And then the kicker: “Get in the driver’s seat. You’re driving home.”I was petrified. But I learned several valuable lessons that day. It’s important to pay attention to the road. I needed to spend more time talking with my mom. And, when you fall, it’s important to get back up and try again—sooner rather than later. Dad always championed the last point, and that’s why I had no choice but to get back behind the wheel. With my eyes glued to the road and my foot constantly on the brakes, somehow we made it home that afternoon.

Fast forward to when I drove off to college: in a matter of two years, I was involved in nine car accidents. It became a joke amongst my friends. But Dad, yeah, he wasn’t laughing. In fact, during phone call regarding accident number six or seven, Dad heaved the mother of all sighs before saying, “Raj-deeeeeep [the full name always comes out when I’m in trouble!] Take your car, drive it to Lake Michigan, and push it in. And leave it there!” I’m pretty sure I had reached my limit—of Dad’s grace for my driving mishaps.

When I met Santhosh after graduation, I actually got into a car wreck with his mom. I was jumping alleys in Northwest Chicago to save time. Didn’t save any time when I ran right into cross traffic and had to have the car towed. That was before we got married. And I can honestly say that Sun has made me a better driver. He introduced me to defensive driving. What a concept! Because I had a huge blamer complex. Other cars so often hit me. What was I to do? He shook his head before explaining what most drivers learn during Driver’s Ed. “It’s not just about you obeying the Traffic Laws. You have to keep an eye out for crazy drivers around you who are not paying attention. And stay clear of them. Especially on Friday nights.”

And he also taught me how to focus on the white dividing line at night when oncoming high beams distracted me. He even taught me some great braking techniques when driving in the snow; we practiced in the parking lot near our house after which he spun and skid out a few road donuts, just for fun.

So for the last fifteen years I’ve been accident free. Until last week. Wahh! 🙁

The good news is, I wasn’t texting. I wasn’t talking on my phone. I wasn’t even driving very fast. I was the second car stopped at the light and when the light turned green, I hit the gas and then looked down or sideways or somewhere. I got distracted. And the woman in front of me wasn’t in a hurry, still looking at herself in her mirror. Translation: she did not accelerate. My eyes immediately went back to the road after I felt the impact. Of my bumper hitting her bumper. Darn it, he bad thing was that a kid had to experience it, since we had her daughter in the back seat, thankfully she had her cool start car starter on!

I was so mad at myself. It happened in a blink of an eye. And thank God it wasn’t anything terrible, no one got hurt, and we actually drove over to the bank parking lot to sort things out, call the Police and file the report. In my state of blind optimism, I hoped there was no damage, I could appologize profusely, and we could simply hug and go on with our days. I just wanted to rush through the bump and proceed like it never happened. Then I had the sense to call Hubs and ask his opinion. Being of much sounder mind than me, he asked me if I was okay, and then said, “Call the police.”

I did. And then the irony of ironies, the fender bender occurred a block from Hubby’s hospital, so before the cops arrived, Hubs had walked over to comfort me and tell me in his nicest voice possible to:Shut Up. Because, I talk too much. And when I’m nervous, I talk more. He was concerned that before this situation dissipated, the Cop and the woman whose car I hit would know everything about me, including my ATM PIN, my social security number, and the location of the mole on my left shoulder. I don’t have a mole on my left shoulder. But if I did… Anyway, I stopped. And listened.

When the Officer handed me the paper with important numbers to give to my insurance company, Hubby drove me over to the hospital to have lunch with me. I wanted to get on with my day, but he reminded me that I needed to slow down…in more ways than one. And before I exited the car, I said, “I can’t believe you’re not mad at me.”

He smiled and reminded me of some critical truths: “You’re not hurt. You haven’t had an accident since the day we got married. And it could have been so much worse. The main thing is that you’re okay.”

I teared up right there and then. Partly because it finally hit me: I was just in an accident. But more so because Hubs gave me exactly what I needed at that moment. Grace. Sweet grace.

Funny thing is, when people find out you’ve been in an accident, the stories come out of the wood works, and you find out just how minor your incident was compared to what others have gone through. And you feel a little better when you hear about the person who got into an accident when a mosquito distracted him in the car. A family member who sneezed and rear-ended someone. Or the best one I heard: a friend who tore off the oil pan of his car when he saw a pretty girl and ended up on the curb when he just kept driving.

The stories entertained. And lightened my guilt. A little. But the thing I know without a doubt is how this little bump in my day reminded me of the light that goes off when the gas gage is almost on empty. Last week’s Bump was my warning sign. And if I don’t pay attention to this little bump, bigger, more dangerous and possibly fatal crashes lie in my future. Time to slow down. Focus. And pay attention. So thankful for the bump, even though I still kick myself for driving too close to the poor woman I hit. I am just thankful that it was a minor accident. My wake-up call. To not get lax in all that I’ve learned to be a responsible driver.

When hubs walked me out of the coffee shop, he smirked and said, “You shouldn’t work so hard to get material for your blog…”

“Haha.” We kissed goodbye, and I couldn’t help but say it. “Thanks for not being super mad. I’ll go back to writing now. And I’ll drive more carefully. I promise.”

And as I drove to my favorite coffee shop to resume writing, I said a prayer for the woman whose car I hit earlier that day. And I thanked God for keeping me safe and gifting me with my gracious hubby. And the words to Toby Mac’s song “Me Without You” rang more true than ever at that moment.