See Me, Save Me: 'I don't know you but I almost killed you' Published Dec. 22, 2008 By Mike Oringderff AFRC ROBINS AFB, Ga. -- I don't know you, but I almost killed you this morning. That's right, I almost killed you and I don't even know who you are. This could have been my worst Christmas ever, possibly even worse than the Christmas my father died. I was in the morning traffic on Highway 247, about a mile past Sandy Run Road, on my way to work at the base. I am sorry to admit I wasn't paying very good attention to my surroundings. It's the same drive to work and the same drive home day after day, week after week. You sort of just get into the traffic and follow along with everyone else until you get to one of the base entry gates. It was time to move over into the left lane to avoid the traffic going into the first gate past the Museum of Aviation. I wasn't even going to put on my blinker, or maybe I was, it happened so fast I don't remember. I was about to move over, but for some reason, thought to myself, nah, I'll just stay in this lane today. At exactly, and I mean exactly that same precise second that I made the decision not to change lanes, you came by me almost as a blur on a motorcycle. You passed me doing at least 80 mph. It could have been faster; you made it look as if I was in slow motion. I don't know why, but I looked up to the heavens, thinking 'I owe you one.' Are you married? Do you have kids? Parents? Think how they'd feel today if I had made the lane change. Instead of looking forward to opening presents and being with loved ones, they'd be preparing for a funeral. Think how your kids would feel every time Christmas comes around, not to mention how your wife would feel trying to explain each year that this is supposed to be a joyous time. I know, because I've lived it now for 47 years since my Dad died at Christmas time. How would one supposed to celebrate the birth of Christ and the death of Dad at the same time, year after year? I know I'd be sorry because I'd have to live with it for the rest of my life. I'd spend forever asking for a second chance. My wife would be affected because she wouldn't be able to live with my remorse. My kids would lose a Dad for a while, maybe forever. I beg you. Even though you're not aware I'm doing it, I beg you. SLOW DOWN! I suspect you are not so important to Robins that you must get to work THAT fast. Leave earlier if you think you are, but remember, there are people out there like me, who for one brief moment was not paying attention. But even if they are paying close attention, the split second you flew around me doesn't give one much time to react. You know who you are and you owe me or you owe a higher power. Merry Christmas, kiss your wife and kids for me. --- To view a See Me, Save Me video from a motorcyclist who wasn't as lucky, visit http://www.robins.af.mil/shared/media/document/AFD-081029-021.wmv