Feb 3: The Flip

Tasmania is the sort of place you would imagine if you were thinking up fairy tales. It has deep lush forest filled with huge, craggly old trees; jagged mountains made up of huge boulders and steep passes. There are waterfalls at every turn, a diverse range of wildlife, and a wild part of the sea known as the roaring 40s, where waves of 20m have been known to crash along the rocky shore. It is inspiring, natural, and breath-takingly spectacular.

I was on my way from Wineglass bay to Launceston. There was a steady stream of rain, the sort you expect from a low flow shower head. Not enough to cause concern, but just enough to keep your windsheild wipers on all the time. I had been driving for about an hour. The road was narrow and windy. I was making my way through vineyard country, a relatively new industry in this perfect pocket of sun, mountains, and mist.

As I came around a bend to the right, I could feel the back tires start to slip out from behind me. This is mildly ironic, since I had noted earlier that morning that most vehicles back home had moved away from rear wheel drive in order to limit skidding and sliding on the ice. The road was some sort of asphalt... it was greasy, or oily... not at all unlike the conditions of a Canadian winter. The paved section of the road ended at the edge of my lane... As the skidding tires touched the gravel, the vehicle was immediately kicked into a fishtail.

I wrestled with the van, struggling to keep it in my lane and out of the oncoming traffic. I switched directions three times, swerving hard to the right, hard to the left, and then hard to the right again. Three oncoming cars drove past, as I careened out of control. As I slowed down, I felt the van swing out perpendicular to the road... and I rolled over. It seemed like it was happening in slow motion. The van touched down on its side, and then rolled to a stop on its roof across both lanes of traffic.

I hung motionless upside down, as my seatbelt caught me upside down like a fancy race harness. Panicked by the thought of being hit while helpless by some sort of semi-trailer, I immediately unbuckled my belt, turned off the engine, and kicked out my door; scrambling to the safety of the gravel ditch. I did a quick physical check... no bumps, no bleeding... not even a scratch. Obviously, this was not my time to go. Trusty Rusty had managed to keep me from harms way; giant bends in the roll bars above my head show just how close I came to sustaining a major injury. I have since decided that I am invincible. Looking back, the only trace of an accident was a minor bruise on my hip, where the seatbelt clung desperately to hold me upside down.

In retrospect, I have decided that the roof is the fourth hardest side to land on when rolling-over a Ford Econovan. The two easiest are the right and left side, which simply require you to tip the vehicle. Of course the hardest ones would include rolling it back onto its wheels, or somehow managing to stand it up on one of its ends.

Helpful passers-by were at my side immediately. One fellow came to check me out, the other started calling the police. A fellow with a giant 4x4 helped to coordinate the dragging of the van off the road, and flipping it right side up once again. After meeting with the police and then a doctor, I got a ride with the tow truck driver back to the state capital of Hobart.

I have always thought I was lucky. Not in a lottery winning sort of way... but kind of like there is someone looking out for me. I have never felt quite so singularily fortunate as when my car flipped and I walked away unscathed.