On Monday, Oct. 23, the “super fog” spread across Louisiana, mainly on Interstate 55. The fog caused 158 cars to pile on top of each other, leaving seven people dead and 63 injured.

I was traveling to school like any other day. As I was crossing the Manchac Bridge, I saw a collision of cars and trucks bunched together up ahead. 

As I rapidly approached the line of vehicles, a sense of imminent danger enveloped me. My heart raced as I instinctively slammed my foot on the brake pedal, and the tires beneath me bore the brunt of the sudden deceleration. The transition from rapid forward momentum to an abrupt halt was jarring. The entire car seemed to lunge forward as if protesting against the forces at play. 

By the grace of God, I did not hit anyone in front of me and avoided serious injury. 

However, the person traveling next to me was not so lucky. They crashed into a truck and the front of their vehicle was completely totaled. 

I looked behind me and saw another black SUV speeding down the road. It swerved to the right and got jammed between the side of the bridge and a large blue truck. Its momentum nearly carried the SUV over the side of the bridge before landing on the ground again. 

Another black Nissan raced toward the mass of vehicles. That car crashed into the same blue truck the SUV did. The car spun around before slamming into the side of the bridge right in front of me. 

My fear throughout the entire situation was going over the side of the bridge. I was parked on the left-hand side of the road. If someone had hit me hard enough, then my car could have gone over. 

Watching these accidents happen back to back to back felt surreal. You see tragedies like this on the news or in TV shows, but never do you think you’ll actually be in one. 

More cars sped down the road, but they were able to stop in time before adding to the crash. I, and many others, put on our blinkers in hopes that oncoming cars would see and slow down. After roughly 10 minutes, four ambulances came down the road along with a multitude of state troopers. 

Thankfully, people were able to exit their cars, take pictures of the accidents and talk among themselves about the situation at hand. For the next hour, people waited for further directions. Some people were talking to the police about their accidents and others showed frustration about waiting for so long. 

When I got out of my car, there was gray smoke in the air. Although it was distant, the smoky smell in the air was still strong. From what I could see, there were no fires actively burning by that time. The only things that remained were shattered glass and chunks of metal across the ground. 

People who were still able to drive, like me, were redirected to Ruddock and from there we traveled to LaPlace. I contacted my teachers via email about the situation and they were completely understanding. 

I felt a renewed sense of appreciation for the fragility of life and the importance of staying alert on the road. The near-car accident served as a wake-up call, a stark reminder of how close we all come to the edge of disaster and how our lives can veer into a different and more perilous direction. 

Every day on the road is a reminder that life is fragile. It’s worth cherishing every breath we take.