It’s amazing how things can (almost) change in an instant. Everybody dreads that unwelcome phone call telling of an accident or other tragedy and wishes it away.

The parentheses-enclosed “almost” indicates there was no tragedy, but it was the next – nearest thing.

But first, some background:

At first I really resented the presidential fiat that nobody travel more than 55 mph. That was in the ‘70s and part of the ‘80s, when a presumed gas shortage was supposed to be alleviated if everybody slowed down, even on toll roads, engineered to accommodate huge volumes of traffic at high speeds.

That was then. I grew to enjoy it and even today keep a bit under the limit. The lower speed limit gave us time to enjoy the scenery; it decreased everyone’s likelihood of being killed. Yet, there were those who fought it. They reasoned that a 55-mile trip now would take a full hour, whereas before the speed limit, the same distance would take about 45 minutes.

And, they argued, the more time you spend on the road, the greater your chances of being in an accident.

That’s like the motorist who learns that most serious accidents occur with clear skies, bright sunshine and dry roads. The obvious conclusion: it’s safer to drive at night in wet, stormy weather. And like the person who realizes that most accidents occur within five miles of home and thus sells his house and moves away.

People will argue that even with a lower speed limit, some are still gonna speed. When federal law was 55 mph, those who sped may have gone as fast as 70 or 75, which is what’s the law now. I’m convinced the people who whiz by us now, going 90 or faster, wouldn’t have gone that fast when the lower limit was in effect.

It must have been quite an adjustment some dozen years ago when overnight it became legal to drive 75. Today there are many more cars on the road, stacked up by the dozens in the passing lane, whereas under the old law, excess traffic wasn’t so daunting. And mere physics dictates that faster-moving bodies collide with much greater impact.

But I digress.

The phone call we didn’t want to receive involved an accident Friday near the Canoncito exit on I-25. That’s the place where the road becomes hilly and curvy, and signs direct drivers to go 65. The accident, which received scant play in Saturday’s Journal North, concerned a truck driver whose semi landed on its side, in the median.

My son Diego, heading for Albuquerque with his wife and three children, was the first to see (and almost participate in) the accident. My other son Ben, who left for Albuquerque hours later, saw the aftermath of the crash, which still hadn’t been cleared, and continued to back up traffic.

Diego phoned us to mention that a truck had fallen on its side. But the miracle of cellular technology chose that instant to go kaput, and all we got was sketchy information. We didn’t know which truck was on its side, whether anyone was hurt, or much else.

When we called back we learned that Diego’s report was about somebody else’s accident. Diego had been the first person to sprint up the hill with a red flag to warn other drivers. His wife Connie, who just days before became a registered nurse-midwife, ran to the truck to check the driver’s condition. And shortly after, there were dozens of cell calls to 911, and several motorists flagging traffic, lest they hit the semi, whose trailer was blocking part of northbound I-25.

So we learned about an accident in which the driver received minor injuries. It made barely a ripple in the media, as the newspaper article failed even to mention the driver’s name.

Connie remained with the driver until help arrived. Diego continued alerting traffic for about an hour.

What might have been a routine account of a semi sliding on its side was really much more. Remember, I-25 becomes snake-like in that area.

A later e-mail from my grandson and namesake convinced us of the possible enormity of the accident.

According to grandson Arthur, the driver said he’d hit a patch of gravel on the road and lost control of the truck. What Diego, the driver of a pickup, saw was the semi heading directly toward him and his family. Both drivers must have been alert, Diego swerving way to the shoulder as the trucker worked to keep the rig from crossing the median and into the southbound lane.

The driver chose to flip the truck onto the median rather than risk colliding with another driver, in this case Diego and his family.

At high speeds, there’s little time to make adjustments. Often we read about cars flipping over because the driver veered in one direction and lost control by over-correcting. Friday’s near-miss shows that both drivers were alert. Choosing to let the 18-wheeler flip on its side turned out to be a much wiser maneuver than keeping it upright. It may have saved lives.

•••

Naill Cormier, 17, who got all of last week’s movie-novel-play questions correct, responded to what he admits was a much toucher series of items this time. I told him that some of his answers are much more imaginative than mine. Naill’s answers, where they differ from mine, appear in parenthesis.

1. Fry the Beloved Country

2. Dense and Sensibility

3. Mummy Dearest (Naill said he almost wrote “Deadest”)

4. Wetness for the Prosecution (Witless . . . )

5. From Hair to Eternity

6. Clubless

7. Sheepless in Seattle

8. Apocalypse Not (Apocalypse Wow!)

9. Steed

10. Freewax (Freewash)

11. Baked Bun (Baked Gut)

12. A Midsummernight’s Cream

13. How Green Was My Valet

14. Alone Came a Spiker

15. Steaks on a Plank

16. The Perminator