It was about 2005. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky on a day marked by a gentle breeze. I was driving a Silver Toyota Celica in San Diego. My car moved along at or close to the speed limit in a residential community, as it approached a commercial area.
Suddenly, without much warning, out of seemingly nowhere, a vehicle’s front end was moving directly towards my Celica’s front end, I believe, having spun around a corner. I hit the brakes. The other driver hit the brakes. Our tires screeched as our brakes squealed loudly.
We both stopped completely. I stepped out of my small car to examine the damage. As I looked down, I saw the two front bumpers a millimeter or so apart. I am not sure if my pinky finger could have fit between the two bumpers.
There may well have been an angel who stopped that likely collision. I came away convinced that that was the closest call I would ever endure.