The tires squealed as I turned the corner, going much faster than I should have been going, but the darn light was going to change! I hate waiting for traffic lights – or any kind of traffic situation actually – I just want to keep moving!

Well, this time my impatience was costly.

I accelerated (when I should have braked) on the lovely yellow light. Instead of rounding the corner smoothly and moving on, I found myself inside a tin can being extracted by the jaws-of-life.

It’s freaky when something like this happens to you. The gap between yellow light go — to hearing the whirr of steel being pried apart in extraction is what it must feel like to have a seizure or a blackout. Everything normal is misplaced.

“Are your alright?”

Uh, I don’t know… but I nod an assert. I’m breathing.

“We’re going to get you outta there. Just sit tight.”

I think, great advice and where were you with it before I impatiently blew through that yellow.

I don’t fully understand how I hit the median. I later went back to see if I could see, but all I saw were two indistinct red lines on the concrete; graffiti left by my month-old Grand Am, now residing in the scrap graveyard. I, miraculously, escaped with only collateral damage: a slight concussion and a broken clavicle (thank you seat belt).

I am grateful, and today, I try not to be in such a big rush (still working on it), but I do often hear that echo of a voice, that remains without a face, saying “Just sit tight,” and I know that my need for speed could result in a far greater loss.