Just doing a bit of a cull on some paperwork when I stumbled across this picture again.
For those who may be unfamiliar with this particular episode (page 240 in my book), I had a tyre blow-out on my car while driving up to Stoke Mandeville in 2006. The result was, well, as above...
I managed to flip the car and roll it three times before crawling out of the sardine can that remained. Tempted as I was to do the "I can't feel my legs" speech all over again, I decided to spare the feelings of the horrified crowd that had stopped, no doubt expecting a mangled corpse.
At the time, I remained in a state of almost Zen-like calm throughout the experience. I'm fairly certain that this was due to previous traumas using up my reserves of 'consequence calculation chemicals' or something.
Looking back four years later, however, and with my reserves no doubt topped up by four years of parenting, the picture makes for difficult viewing.
Having a child makes one see danger and consequence in just about everything from the swings in the park to a particularly angry looking piece of toast. I'm sure that this instinct is heightened when spontaneous movement and therefore reactive intervention is compromised.
But the picture above also makes me feel a sense of responsibility towards my family. A responsibility to take care of myself so that I can be of use to them. And so I wave a fond farewell to the invincibility of youth and chart a course towards a world of fear and mortality.
OK, that was a tad over-dramatic. But it is a dramatic picture, no?
For those who may be unfamiliar with this particular episode (page 240 in my book), I had a tyre blow-out on my car while driving up to Stoke Mandeville in 2006. The result was, well, as above...
I managed to flip the car and roll it three times before crawling out of the sardine can that remained. Tempted as I was to do the "I can't feel my legs" speech all over again, I decided to spare the feelings of the horrified crowd that had stopped, no doubt expecting a mangled corpse.
At the time, I remained in a state of almost Zen-like calm throughout the experience. I'm fairly certain that this was due to previous traumas using up my reserves of 'consequence calculation chemicals' or something.
Looking back four years later, however, and with my reserves no doubt topped up by four years of parenting, the picture makes for difficult viewing.
Having a child makes one see danger and consequence in just about everything from the swings in the park to a particularly angry looking piece of toast. I'm sure that this instinct is heightened when spontaneous movement and therefore reactive intervention is compromised.
But the picture above also makes me feel a sense of responsibility towards my family. A responsibility to take care of myself so that I can be of use to them. And so I wave a fond farewell to the invincibility of youth and chart a course towards a world of fear and mortality.
OK, that was a tad over-dramatic. But it is a dramatic picture, no?
Hells bells Tim,I love your writing but in this instance the passage in the book doesn't do justice to the carnage in the image.
You're right about the arrival of children reminding us of our fragility and mortality though...As JS used to say,clunk clip...even on the shortest trip.
Mick.