One Monday morning in the summer of 2015, I almost met my maker as I was traveling east near La Vita Pass.  

I was behind a slow-moving semi that was gradually climbing the mountain at about 55 mph.  e traffic had picked up behind me, and the vehicle immediately behind the crawling truck had passed at a safe pace.  

Now, it was my turn, I thought as I peered around the crawling Walmart delivery truck. With my engine boosted, I was able to find that break in the traffic to pass it safely. Before I did so, I double checked once again and confirmed it was safe to move forward.   

I was not completely around the truck when oncoming traffic resumed, and a speeding car pulled out from behind a late model Chevrolet truck with a homemade camper. 

"Oh, CRAP!" I remembered exclaiming out loud. Luckily, I looked for a way to slow and get back into the line of traffic; but there was no way to do that because a Mazda had already claimed my space in the auto line up.   

So, then I realized I had to floor the gas pedal; that last minute-speeder didn't back down and honked at me as we had a near miss. f we had had wings our appendages would have clipped each other. y that time, the semi slowed more and let me over just in time to pull out of danger.  

I believe I was in the right-a-way as I committed to passing well before the oncoming speeder entered into its pass.  But like we've heard before, being right doesn't make it right or safe.  

As I considered my decision to pass, I took steps that should have assured my safety: I looked behind, to the side, and ahead. My assessment was that it was safe to move on. Nevertheless, before I knew it, someone else driving the opposite way decided to do the same—and did so even though I was in the passing lane well before them.  

How could I have done better? Maybe I could have waited and finally crawled over the pass right behind the dinosaur truck heading to the next Walmart Super-Center that was barely lumbering up the steep hill. Maybe I could have driven a lot faster, or maybe I could have slowed down and enjoyed "Black Magic Woman," by Santana on the radio.   

I did feel like magic or an angel had helped me get over in time without being flattened into a puddle, and yes, I was oh so very grateful for a safe journey, for a life to be lived in full awareness, and for all my second chances. 

That day, Schroeder was riding in the passenger seat. He looked at each other once I was around the 8-wheeler and in my lane. He seemed to sigh, "Gee mom, that was clooooose!” 

Sometimes, living is a close call, and swerving saves our lives and the lives of our loved ones who are joyously riding beside us. 

Nelda Curtiss is a retired college educator and long-time local columnist. each her at columnsbynellie.com or email her at columnsbynellie@gmail.com.