One of the things that struck me when driving through the mountains of British Columbia were the ‘runaway lanes’.
They are there so that should the brakes on a big vehicle fail, the tractor trailer has a place to run off the road.
They are there ideally to save lives.
Ideally?
Ideally, brakes shouldn’t fail.
Ideally, we shouldn’t need runaway lanes.
Ideally, this is true.
We do not live in the ideal world.
We live in the real world.
Unfortunately a lot of people who see me have an idea of how things ‘should’ be.
They’re living on highways where the brakes ‘should’ always work.
They live without a runaway lane.
Well…
The lanes are there.
It’s sometimes difficult to admit that the breaks are failing and that you need to get off the road, let the tires sink into the soft gravel, and use the runaway lanes to prevent disaster.
Once there?
Someone will find you.
Once there?
It won’t be long till you’re on the road again.
I tend to choose who I spend time with based on their runaway lanes. So many people at the end of a trip still talking about how the trip should have been, how the other driver did them wrong, why they don't ever want to see that road again and since they were pushed off the road once, they might as well drive half off the road forever. I try not to spend time with them.
I remember this trip where we blew a tire at high speed. Something went wrong. But it happened on a safe spot, we had a dirt road entrance to pull off into, CAA was 10 minutes away despite in being a holiday weekend, we admired wild bull rushes that grew feet away, and we were back on the road easily within an hour. I had noted all the great things that happened once we got moving again and a young person felt that something bigger was watching over us. Those runaway moments sometimes turn into moments of grace.