There are times when being a Dad can be a lot scarier than jumping out of airplanes. A few years back we lived in a small town in England called Gerrard's Cross. Denny was 12-years old at the time and Molly was seven. Each day after driving them to their school's bus stop, Frannie and I caught a train and the underground into London where we worked.
One day we were running late. And in order to meet the train on time, we let the kids out of the car across the road from their bus stop. Molly didn’t like this idea and cried that she wanted to be taken directly to the bus as always. I told her to stop being silly ... that mom would help her cross (Fulmer Rd).
While I sat behind the steering wheel watching them, Denny dashed across during a break in the traffic - but, Molly’s shorter legs prevented her from doing that, and continued holding her mom’s hand waiting for the next opportunity.
When there was another break in traffic, Frannie said, "OK, you can go after this car" referring to one approaching from her RIGHT … Molly, however, was looking at a closer vehicle coming from her LEFT. On thinking this was the one her mom referred to, she broke away from Frannie’s grip after it passed and dashed into the street ... not knowing there was a vehicle from the RIGHT that was still coming.
It seemed like TIME went into slow-motion for me at that moment ... I was able to analyze how fast Molly was running into the street, and in the rear-view mirror I could also see how fast the car was approaching from behind where I sat AND SAW... the timing for CONTACT was perfect