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Two Lives of a Nine-Year-Old
The two times I almost died in New Jersey are located within approximately three miles of each other. I experienced near-death twice in one year. However, the second time, I was a passenger in a car, so that wasn’t totally under my control. Nobody was wearing a seat belt, and it was definitely after 1968 when the accident happened (and seat belts became mandatory, legally, across the country). Chalk up both instances to dumb luck and the stupidity of youth.
In my mind, I’m nine years old when both things happened and with one of my best friends on each occasions. I lived on Spring Street in Somerset, New Jersey. It was a short walk to County Road 514, otherwise known as Hamilton Street. Across the four-lane divide was a gas station (which is still there, according to Google Maps). Less than 100 yards away, there’s now a mini-mall with a 7-Eleven. But all those years ago, if you wanted a quick junk food fix, you disobeyed your parents and crossed the busy intersection.
Clicking furiously in Maps, there’s a traffic light about a quarter-mile down the road. It didn’t exist when I lived in New Jersey, otherwise, I wouldn’t have narrowly missed death that first time. I could have walked to the light, traversed the busy roadway, and bought my snacks.
My friend Robert and I had gotten lucky and found some change, in couches and on the sidewalk…
