*Post updated on Sept. 9, 2021

In my short time on this earth, I've had the pleasure of being involved in a handful of major-ish traffic accidents, not to mention some other vehicular kerfuffles while out on the road. Getting rear-ended in Florida; sort of, maybe causing a family of five to ram into a concrete median in Chicago; literally blowing a gasket on the way back from Windsor, Ontario — you must admit, I have a gift.

And then there was that one time outside of Loudon, Tennessee, when the driver of a banged-up, white something-or-other decided they were going to run us off I-75.

It was early April 2013. Four friends and I had packed ourselves into my tiny 2001 Ford Focus and set off very early in the morning from Ann Arbor, Michigan, for Atlanta, where the boys in maize and blue would be taking part in the 2013 NCAA Men's Basketball Final Four. Hardly the only basketball fans on the road that day, we traveled through Ohio and Kentucky without a hitch, stopped in some rinky-dink town for breakfast and to fill up on gas, and sang our hearts out to a few tunes on the radio before running into any kind of trouble whatsoever.

Little did we know — and please shoot me for typing that — that our full gas tank would not carry us much further. I had done all the driving during that first leg of the trip, and so, after we ate, I turned the wheel over to one of my compatriots, who, let's just say, has a penchant for driving a little erratically.

Whilst definitely adhering to the posted speed limits of the great state of Tennessee, we inevitably hit a bit of traffic. In an attempt to keep us moving along at a decent pace, our new driver began pulling some “graceful” maneuvers, weaving in and out of the various lanes. I think, perhaps, that he angered a fellow driver by doing so — which is the only rationale I have for what happened next.

Having just sung the final lyrics of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" — as a gang of five college students are apt to do, apparently (or was that just us?) — the front of another vehicle collided with the rear passenger door of the Ford Focus, sending us flying off into the ditch. We cruised past several skinny trees before completing a one-eighty turnaround and coming to rest in the lowest section of the depressed ground, the air bags and the front windshield exploding in our faces and ears.

Amazingly, astoundingly, remarkably, the worst injuries sustained by any of the five of us were just a few small scratches. Oh, and I couldn't hear out of one of my ears for the rest of the day; an air bag going off in your face will do that sometimes.

We climbed up the short embankment back onto the shoulder of the freeway and spotted our dear old friend, the crappy compact white vehicle that had hit us, idling on the other side of the road. They didn't stay for long though. After seeing all five of us, basically unharmed, walk up to the shoulder of the road, the driver of the white car decided it was time to high tail it out of there. Had any of us been thinking of this possibility, we would have taken a photo of their license plate. Alas, I guess we were tricked into believing in the good nature of other human beings. What a bunch of schmucks, am I right?

So there we were, my Ford Focus totaled in the ditch, stranded halfway between Michigan and Atlanta, when whom should come rolling up but a couple of good Samaritans in a nearly-empty RV, who also happened to be on their way to the national semifinals. Ken and Rick, spying us clad in our University of Michigan apparel, stopped along the opposite shoulder and, without hesitation, asked us if we needed a lift. We did, of course.

The police came, we gave them the details, my poor car was towed away, never to see the light of day again (until the repair shop it went to fixed it up and sold it, I’m sure), and we piled into Ken and Rick's RV to continue on to Atlanta.

Now, I cannot say that accepting rides from strangers is the best practice, but in this case it could not have worked out more perfectly. Ken and Rick had expected more friends of theirs to come along to the Final Four, but for one reason or another, they had had to cancel or just generally couldn't make it. Which meant there was plenty of room in the RV for five kids who'd been stranded in the middle of Tennessee after some jag-off pulled a hit and run on them.

We even ended up canceling our hotel reservation and staying with Ken and Rick the rest of the weekend, where after they drove us all the way back to Michigan (and we gave them what amounted to the rest of our combined cash as thanks).

It was sort of a surreal experience all around, which could only have been made better had Michigan come back to beat Louisville in the title game on Monday (they lost by 6). Oh, and being out a few thousand dollars in the form of a Ford Focus was kind of a bummer, too.

-LTH