Superstitious

A few years ago I was driving towards an empty intersection when a car on the cross street ran the stop sign. The instant I saw the other car, my reflexes had my foot slammed on the break pedal. Although from the time I first saw the car until I hit its back bumper less than three seconds passed, but in my brain everything happened in slow motion. I can still replay that 1970's bronze car gliding past me- the front bumper, the front door, the back door, almost clearing the back end, then just tipping into its back bumper. My air bag exploded. The other car spun around in the intersection. Then it was over.
What I saw and what I did had nothing to do with my neocortex. An alligator would have processed the information the same way. From the eye, to the response center. It’s commonly called instinct, but to be more precise, from beginning to end, my primal brain was in control.
Most of our reality is built the same way. Sight, sound, touch and taste is detected, sent directly to the most elementary part of our brains, then possibly, sent to other parts of the brain. Most of what we experience is ignored or discarded. Some of the information reaches the cortex, and is examined in light of reason. Most of it is not.
All these years later, when I see a old, brown, four door sedan under any circumstances my brain flashes on that accident. Irrationally, I single out that object for special attention. I remember a few details of the accident, then I forget it. It's a memory, nothing more.
But when I see any car speeding on a cross street towards a stop sign, my body tenses, my muscles go on alert. I can’t help but feel fear regardless of the other circumstances.
I’m simply superstitious.
Nancy Sherer