Experience: I prevented a motorway pile-up

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/may/02/experience-i-prevented-motorway-pile-up

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I have been commuting from Stevenage to London all my working life. At 6.15am every day, you'll find me accelerating out of the sliproad on to the A1(M). One morning last November, as I joined the motorway, I noticed the car ahead was dangerously close to the central reservation – half of it was bumping along the grass verge.

"Bad place to break down," was my immediate thought. I turned on my hazard lights, then flashed my headlights to let the driver know it was safe for him to move to the hard shoulder if he needed to stop. The car was now scraping along the central reservation at 40-50mph. I could hear the grinding sound of metal on metal. Then the car reached an overlapping section of the barrier that made it ricochet sharply and change its trajectory, careering across the lanes. I thought the driver must be asleep, and began beeping my horn and shouting.

I felt compelled to do something. I drew parallel with the car, on its righthand side, and saw the driver properly. He was a businessman in his 50s and I could tell he wasn't in a good way. His eyes were half-closed and his mouth was hanging open. I knew it was up to me to stop his car before there was a major collision.

I didn't hesitate or question whether it was a wise move. I accelerated until I was directly in front of the car, then slammed on my brakes. The car smashed into the back of my van and we started to slow down. His was the more powerful engine, and even though I had the handbrake on and my foot on the footbrake, my van was still being pushed down the motorway. I realised his car must be an automatic, still in "drive" mode, because a car with manual gears would have stalled by that point.

I was at a loss as to what to do next and it was terrifying. Eventually, we came to a standstill, but if I took my foot off the brake or released my handbrake, we would have moved again. Thankfully, another driver drew up and I shouted for him to turn off the businessman's engine. He managed to pull his own car over, run to the other car, reach in and switch off the ignition.

I got out and started to shake the man and slap his cheek to try to revive him. Cars were still zooming past and I hated them for a moment. There was a man desperately ill here and all they were concerned about was not being late for work.

Then a paramedic appeared; it was chance that she was nearby. She immediately took charge, asking me to get the man out of the car and fetching her oxygen pump from her boot. She was joined by a firearms officer who started performing CPR. An off-duty policeman controlled the traffic, while I just stood by. I was amazed that three members of the emergency services had all happened to be moments away.

When the ambulance arrived, a paramedic noticed I was holding myself stiffly and I realised that the impact of the collision had injured my back. In hospital, an x-ray showed no permanent damage, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I had discovered that the man in the car had had a heart attack and was pronounced dead at the hospital. I was devastated. I'd done everything I could, but it wasn't enough.

The police commended my actions and said they had never heard of anything like this before. I was nominated for a bravery award, but I didn't want any glory or recognition. Instead, in the weeks that followed I struggled to cope. It felt surreal to go from a life-or-death situation to normality again. All sorts of turbulent emotions were bombarding me: regret, guilt and – after the insurance company refused to supply a replacement van while mine was repaired, saying the accident was my fault – anger.

A turning point came with counselling. This helped me to recognise that I had post-traumatic stress disorder and I was able to start laying all the "what ifs?" to rest. I was also helped by a lovely letter from the man's family, thanking me. I replied, telling them that, in his last moments, he was surrounded by people who were trying to help him. When I found myself back on the A1(M), I felt cold as I saw that the section of the central reservation had been replaced. I used to live in a bubble during my journey to work, focusing on the day ahead. Now I'm all too aware of how precarious, and precious, life is.

• As told to Emily Cunningham

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