In the days before metric and when cars in North America were the size of boats and had engines that could power a train, I experienced the scariest moment of my life. Wedged in the back seat of a car with five other guys, I started freaking out as the driver let things rip on the Canadian highway that led to my village.
I don’t know why I was in the car – I knew the guys but they weren’t my friends. Maybe I had hitched a ride home from school. As the car hurtled faster and faster down the highway, I remember seeing the needle on the speedometer inching towards and finally touching the 120 miles per hour mark on a road where the maximum allowed speed was 60.
I used to think I asked to be let out of the car and maybe I did but now I think it was probably more the case that they dropped me off in my village and I walked the two miles east to our farm.
Many years later, I discovered that speed is a relative thing as my wife and I drove our little rental Fiat along the Autobahn in Germany which, if I recall correctly, has no posted speed limits. I kept up with traffic on the four-lane road which meant I ended up travelling the equivalent of 100 mph which didn’t seem that incredibly fast to me. Amazingly though, Mercedes and BMWs were flying by us in the passing lane as though we were standing still. Some of them must have been topping out at 120 mph.
Even at those speeds, apparently, there aren’t a lot of accidents. However, when a pile up does occur, it can involve dozens of vehicles.
©2012 Jim Hagarty
