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Track #7 By: Allegra Gellar on 10/21/2001; 5:13 PM I know what it's like to wonder if I'm going to get to feel what it's like to drive a car over a bridge. I was thinking about that, all of a sudden, only yesterday, at approximately 2:30 in the afternoon. I had the stereo cranked up high. I felt like I was in an altered state, zooming across the Morrison Bridge in Portland on a rainy Saturday. The surreal beats of track#7, "The Casino", from the Run Lola Run soundtrack reverberated in my skull. I needed to get into the left lane to get to Highway South, and I popped the turn signal and began moving to the outside lane. Was I going too fast? I'm not a speeder. I was moving with traffic, between 35 and 40 mph. The tires felt unstable, as they always do, on the metal grate-I wasn't too alarmed when the car began a graceful slide sideways. Until it kept going.Something happened when the tires went from the metal grating to the pavement. I think the car hydroplaned. In order for you to appreciate what happened next, you need to understand that the Morrison Bridges a very wide bridge, with two lanes going in each direction. There is no center divider. Saturday, in the middle of the day, is a particularly busy time to be crossing. Yesterday was no exception. I tapped the brakes to try to regain some control, and it was only when this sent the car into an abrupt fishtail, followed by a long, slow spin with forward momentum, that I realized the gravity of the situation. I remember careening to the other side of traffic, turning just over a whole rotation and seeing the side of the bridge. I was thinking the guard rail wasn't very darned high, wondering when the impact would come, and wondering if it would hurt. I worried that others might get hurt, then wondered why I hadn't hit anyone or anything,yet. I was pretty sure I was going to go over the side of the bridge, and thought to myself that was an overly dramatic exit, and not one I would choose at all. I slammed on the brakes a second time, which somehow brought me to a stop, tires smoking, right before I contacted the far side of the bridge. The engine stalled, but the windshield wipers were still going. Track #7 was still blasting, and near the end of the song. The traffic was backed up on both sides of the bridge, and the nearest car to me was less than a car-length away. I wondered why nobody, in this road-rage mad city, no-one was honking at me, while I struggled to start the car. It seemed like forever, but within a minute of stopping, I managed to restart the car. I actually turned on my blinker to indicate I intended to return to the correct side of traffic and go in the correct direction. Once safely across the bridge, I took some deep breaths and let the adrenaline dissipate. I noted the track number of the song that had been my soundtrack. It was not a profoundly miraculous event, but I was very lucky in many respects, not the least of which was the not getting injured or killed and not injuring or killing anyone else. It was, however, a very personal experience. So personal, in fact, that I have not, and will not tell my husband, whose car I was driving. Now I find I am morbidly curious about my near-miss; I wonder if it was my Karma trying to tell me something, I wonder if I'd gone over the bridge if I hadn't slammed on the brakes that second time, I wonder what that would have been like. I also wonder what the people in the cars closest to me were thinking. Did anyone see my doubtless helpless facial expression? Did they go home and talk about it later? Did they mention how ugly the car was? What would it be like to see a film of the whole thing? All I've got left is the memory, some tires whose bald spots hopefully go unnoticed, and my soundtrack, Track #7, "The Casino".
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