WHEN IT COMES TO adrenaline injections of the unpleasant kind – the fight-or-flight kind hardwired into our brains to protect us from bears in the woods waiting to eat our forebears – you really can’t beat a car accident.

I recently lived through the biggest crash I’ve never had, an experience that left me shaking with panic and fizzing with fury.

The collision-course correction I was involved in hit me on a yawning Tuesday morning as a I rounded a pleasant city bend that I take a few times a week, into a lane protected on one side by a concrete barrier. The sub-human in front of me, driving, you guessed it, a Toyota Camry, decided to pull an illegal, un-indicated and borderline suicidal U-turn across two lanes, and around the barrier, right in front of me, even as I approached at I’m-going-to-own-this-bend pace in a BMW Z4.

It occurred to me later, during many moments of rewind and my previously preferred certainly have hit him, right two- reflection, that if I’d been on wheel conveyance, I would most in the passenger door, and would thus have unquestionably cars give you far more options to throw the Z4 savagely course, I’d have sought the the modern, button-operated nient, a safety failing if ever been hospitalised. Fortunately, in these situations, and I was able sideways (in the olden days, of assistance of the handbrake, but version is not so handily convenient, there was one).

Somehow, I managed to pull up my my vehicle, now at 90 degrees to intended direction of travel, right next to The Idiot’s half U-turned, accursed Camry. Without exaggeration, I believe we avoided swapping paint, and phone numbers, by less than a bee’s pubic hair.

My voluble and vicious review of this stranger’s driving abilities may have left him slightly deaf, even though he refused to wind down his window, but I felt entirely justified.

Still shaking as I pulled up at the next set of traffic lights, a man who had slid off Underbelly’s casting couch and into a gangster-looking Maserati pulled up next to me and shouted, “That was some amazing driving, I can’t believe that dickhead didn’t take you out.”

This led me to ponder what any other Australian driver might have done in a similar situation, the answer to which, in many cases, would have been to panic, grab the wheel like a life preserver and slam on the brakes, resulting in a solid and significant collision.

Yes, I was blessed with the good luck to have been driving willing to get sideways (it also extreme circumstances, systems like brown-paper underpants). a Z4, a vehicle that is entirely struck me that, in such AEB are about as much use as brown-paper underpants).

But what undeniably made the difference in the end was many hours of it I’ve done as a doing my job. driver training; the many, highly fortunate byproduct of doing my job.

In a world in which everyone was required to do even one tenth as much – a world like Germany, for example – it’s tenth as much – a world like G quite likely that a lot more accidents would be perhaps, ideally, The Idiot in me might have been trained head check before going full avoided. And front of to do a Suicide Squad on me. Anything is possible.