"Seconds," by Stuart W.

Seconds

by Stuart W.

They say that at the end of your life, you regret the things you didn’t do more than the things that you did do. I didn’t know about that. Less than a second ago, in real time, the Formula 1 car that I was in had been tagged in the rear, and now was several feet off the ground, upside down. I was staring directly up, or down, so I could see the driver below me. They were jammed up against the wall, sparks flying from the car that was being shredded. When you're watching the Indy 500, you don’t think of all the dangers, especially the wall. The wall is your worst enemy, hitting it could spell certain death. At this point in time, which seemed to move at a snail's speed, I began to think. About my life.  

For the few years leading up to this crash, my life had been spectacular. I had been hired be Team Penske, the nations, and quite possibly, the world's best racing team. I had signed a contract for 5 years, and when that expired, they had asked me to come back for another 5 years. The race I was in was the Indy 500, the race that I loved the most. Not only had I been lucky enough to participate in the Indy 500, but for the last 2 years, I had won the Indy 500. This crash had ruined my 3-year streak. I felt myself wondering I was mad for this, because it would only matter for a few more, hopefully painless seconds. 

Another exceptionally lucky thing that had happened to me is my job.I had a nearly $25M salary for the past eight years, and I had burned through almost all of it. When I had first started, I knew that I would be needing a garage for the cars that I was going to buy, so I bought a 2,000 sq. Ft. Garage, along with a small mansion on top of t. Nothing fancy. Only 12,000 sq. Ft. I would then go on to constantly upgrade my house and my car collection. After my third year, I had accumulated almost 70 cars, consisting of exotics, classics, custom and muscle cars. Every day, rain or shine, I would spend about an hour admiring and choosing wat car I was going to drive. One day, the Maclaren P1 GTR, another day, the Bugatti Chiron, another a Lamborghini Centenario. Gosh, I loved my cars. I think I had spent a total of 85% of my revenue on cars. 

Regret. I remember once, about last year when I had gotten a phone call from a homeless shelter and had quite promptly hung up the phone. I should have taken the time to give. It would have not hurt me and could’ve only benefited others.  

I regret making a schedule. And why I was thinking this also confused me. I know that I liked to have things planned out, but when on vacation, my kids would often see things that they wanted to do, for example, a museum, a playground, or a restaurant, but I would say, 

“Kids, we have to stick to the schedule.” 

I thought I was teaching time management, but I was really stripping away what would have been fun for them.  I regret not taking more risks, enjoying life, having experiences. 

Regret. At this time, I knew what was going to happen. They would red flag the race, and a few drivers would “Miraculously survive.” The safety systems in these cars worked amazing, but not when you were wedged against a wall upside down. Time was slowly speeding up, and I was getting closer to the ground. The driver below me would be ok. That was my last thought, before I collided with the pavement at 200 mph. Time fully sped up, and everything went dark. All in a second.