I want to go a few months without having a serious brush with death.

The most recent one happened this Saturday. I rolled my Subaru twice, totaled it, and got a glass shower, but walked away more of less unscathed.

Mikey, Don and I went up to the Adirondacks, planning on a four day weekend ice climbing. Friday we got a relaxed seven or eight pitches in, and had a great time, good ice, not too cold and sunny. It looked like it was going to be a promising weekend.

Saturday I was driving to Poko-o-Moonshine around 9am. The roads were a touch slushy but seemed OK. I went around a left turn in the road and started to fishtail.

No worries.. .I'm pretty good about recovering. Ease off the gas, don't brake, don't over steer, just ride it out. Don't overreact

Something was different this time.

The oscillations of the car were getting worse, not better… and the bend in the road meant that each sway took me closer to perpendicular than it otherwise would have. I eyed the trees on the side of the road, still concerned about smashing my car up.

I held if together for a few hundred feet, then the right rear wheel slide off the road, as I was beside a short drop off. Nearly as soon as it did, it caught and the car rolled.
It slid on the roof.

"This is how people die in cars". I remember very clinically noting that my shoulder was pressed into the door, but my head and neck seemed to be ok, surprisingly.
I heard glass breaking and metal bending and felt a shower of snow mixed with the shards of the passenger window hitting me. The same oddly detached feeling the climbers will associate with a big lead fall. Total loss of control, not exactly fear, more a numb dread in the pit of your stomach. Knowing that what happens to you is out of your hands now, and all you can do is hope it goes well.

The car slid for what felt like forever but was probably only fractions of a second on the roof, then flipped back upright, the back over again.. faster this time. Like the all free rolls people see in movies. Nothing to do but hold on numbly.

It stopped on the wheels with an impressive thud. A spray of snow settled and I saw smoke, or steam blowing off the engine. I took a slow deep breath and waited for the pain to start. You don't always feel the big stuff at first, so I braced myself to look down and see. something, a bone end, a piece of the car through my leg, or something…. bad.

Nothing. No pain, just the flood of adrenalin I know all to well from climbing. I was covered in glass though. Mixed with the snow it felt surprisingly soft. I pulled down the mirror, expecting my face to be a mask of blood and cuts. Nothing.

Running my hands over my head, expecting to feel the warm stickiness of a bleeding scalp.
….Nothing.

I looked in the back. Don had not been wearing a seatbelt and had been tossed into the back seat. I always wear mine and don't even think to check my passengers. Had I lost control completely just a little earlier I would've hit the trees, and he probably would have been tossed out of the car.

"Everyone ok"
"yes"

The car had stalled. I turned the key and was surprised that it started. Almost reflexively I put the gas down, and was surprised that the wheels spun.

Enough of that, stop the car and get out. The car had stopped around ten feet from the river. About sixty feet wide and.. deep enough.

It was bad. But at least we were in one piece.

The police were nice enough to ticket me for "driving too fast for special hazards (ice)" despite the fact that an EMT responding to the accident put her car in a ditch and had to by towed out as she tried to leave.

Now we were in upstate New York, (Upper Jay), by Lake Placid. The rental car companies close on the weekends here. I called the boss and told him I might not make work Monday.

Sunday we hitchhiked the 120 miles to Albany, rented a car from the airport and drove home.
It's been a long weekend.

I'm shocked at how lucky we all were. I have a minor glass cut on my wrist, wide but not deep enough for stitches, and I keep finding little scabs on my scalp, but I'm fine. If it makes sense, I'm almost disturbed by how little I was disturbed. I'm shaken to be sure, but I've felt this before. I've wondered if I would make it home on several mountains, and each time the aftermath is easier. The cycle between elation and fighting sobs less pronounced and shorter. What is this going though? I mean I'm glad I can handle fear as well as I (apparently) can, but this isn't intended to be bragging. Should feeling like you might die traumatically really be something you're "used to"?

In the two days since the accident, two different people have also offered to GIVE me old cars. At the risk of being overly sentimental, I'm pretty touched. To quote, someone. It's never the things you plan for that rock you. Reality has a way of slapping you in the face on a normal Tuesday afternoon. Take a deep breath