You don’t have to dwell on the tragedy. That’s not helpful. But you can care about the human thread that connects us all. When you hear about a fatal accident, it’s a nudge—a gentle, sobering nudge—to be a little more present.
Imagine you’re making toast in the morning. You’re half-asleep, buttering the bread, thinking about your to-do list. Now imagine that toast is the last meal someone you love will ever eat. Would you rush it? Would you skip saying “I love you” because you were in a hurry?
That’s the question a road like the A3 forces us to ask. It’s a busy, fast, unforgiving ribbon of tarmac. But it’s also a place where lives intersect, often at 70 miles per hour.
A Little Kick in the Pants
Think of this article as a friendly kick in the pants—not a lecture, but a warm reminder. Today, when you drive home (even if it’s not on the A3), check your mirrors. Don’t tailgate. Put your phone down. Wave at the person who lets you merge. That small act of kindness is a tiny miracle.
I have a friend named Sarah who drives the A3 every day. She calls it her “thinking highway.” She listens to audiobooks, plans her dinners, and occasionally sings badly to the radio. Today, her commute was a nightmare of blue lights and diversions. She sat in her car, crying for a stranger she never met.
A3 Surrey: Police release footage of aftermath of three-vehicle crash
That’s why you should care. Because Sarah is you, and you are Sarah. We’re all just fragile creatures in metal boxes, hoping to get home safely.
