Sometimes in life’s worst moments, we realize how strong and resilient we truly are. And, in those moments, our vulnerability might allow magic to happen.
It was after 10 p.m. on Dec. 7, 2013 — a beautiful winter night in New Jersey.
I was driving home from an office holiday potluck dinner, from Parsippany, N.J., to River Vale, N.J., a familiar stretch of road I had been driving for two years now.
As I listened to “Dark Horse” by Katy Perry (lyrics like “make me your Aphrodite” — a bit of Greek irony comes later), my steering wheel felt funny and started to shake. The road was shiny, and in the time it took me to register what the temperature gauge was showing — 31 degrees — I realized that wasn’t water on the road. Panic set in. Suddenly, I was straddling the two highway lanes, surrounded by two Jersey barriers, no shoulder in sight. I had no control. A rush of terror and fear overcame me as I helplessly slid across the road. I started screaming.
My passenger door hit the Jersey barrier to the right. Like a bumper car, I started spinning. And then, I hit a barrier head on and was now perpendicular to the oncoming traffic. I tried turning my wheel. No luck. It wouldn’t budge. My axel had split.
Continue reading the main storyI turned to look out my passenger window. Lights were coming. All I could do was scream — please no, please no! But the headlights only got closer and before I knew it — BOOM. My car started spinning. BOOM. Hit again.
Finally, I stopped spinning and found myself facing a wall of oncoming headlights. The smell of smoke filled my car and I panicked, thinking my car was on fire. But I couldn’t get out. Both of my doors were pushed in and stuck. Fear overwhelmed me.
Suddenly my door was yanked open. “Are you OK?! Are you hurt?!” I jumped out of my car. The rush of fear and emotion was too much. I broke down in the middle of the highway.
The man who opened the door tried to calm me down as I cried. I turned and looked at the vehicles facing me, a tractor-trailer two cars back. So close was I and whoever was in the other car to a very different ending. Instead, there we were, two cars, one black, one white, like yin and yang, perfectly parked next to each other, both facing the wrong way and staring at headlights for as far as I could see.
Soon, several state troopers were there. They closed the on-ramp from Interstate 287 onto Route 80. The road was closed for an hour.
Once the scene was secure and I was feeling safer, the troopers thought I might like a piece of my totaled car to keep as a remembrance of just how lucky I was. And so we scoured the road and I picked up the Ford Taurus logo off the ground.
Then, they told me to thank the driver of the other car. Wait, I should thank the guy who had hit me? Well, the state trooper told me, if it weren’t for him you wouldn’t be standing there right now.
And I wouldn’t be writing this today.
That stranger, who I later learned was Nicholas Angelus, was then a volunteer firefighter in Hopewell, N.J. He had pulled his emergency break to gain more control of his car, and instead of T-boning me, he managed to sideswipe me. He also had immediately hit his hazards and horn to notify the other cars — and tractor-trailers — behind him. He then leapt from his car and ran to mine to help. We were already sore from the collision, but we both walked away. Both cars were totaled.
My family soon arrived to the accident scene. We offered to drive Nicholas home. I wrecked his car and he saved my life. It was the least we could do.
Nicholas, I learned later, told the friend he stayed with that night that he was going to date me. The next day Nicholas called my cellphone to see if I was O.K. I hung up on him after 30 seconds. I was so nervous, worried he was going to sue me. But he kept calling, because he cared. We wound up talking for hours and because of those constant calls, we got to know each other.
We had our first date Dec. 30, about three weeks later. (Because neither of us had a car yet, we met in Manhattan. I took a bus in, he took a train.)
I wish I could reach out to each of the many frustrated drivers and passengers who were stuck in the four-mile backup that night. If only they knew the magic that came of that treacherous accident, they might have renewed faith in the power of love. You never know who is ready to open the door for you, and change your life forever.
Jennifer Lind Angelus, 27, is an associate trade marketing manager at DanoneWave, working on the Oikos and Danimals yogurt brands. Nicholas Angelus, 26, is the assistant manager at Banchetto Feast, a restaurant in Nanuet, N.Y. He is now a volunteer firefighter in Spring Valley, N.Y. The couple married Oct. 14, 2017 (wedding hashtag: #accidentallyangelus) and honeymooned in Greece, where he shared his family heritage.
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