If, at this moment, you think he tore open my door and filled my ears with expletives about my idiotic driving and the destruction of his classic rebuilt truck, in broad daylight, with my daughter sitting in the passenger seat next to me, and how he was going to sue my sorry self, then you’ve watched too many road rage videos.

No, in this case I accidentally destroyed the beautiful truck of one of the world’s finest men I’ve ever met. His first words to me were, “Are you alright?” followed by, “Is your little girl OK?” He went on to fearfully explain that as I pulled my car from a complete stop into the intersection just in front of his oncoming truck, he’d seen my daughter sitting in the passenger seat and, to avoid driving his truck into her door, he swerved sideways so that I drove my car into his driver’s side door instead.

All he wanted to know was if she was OK. She was. We were both considerably shaken from the impact. But all three of us involved in the collision walked away with no injuries.

Our vehicles did not fare so well. Both were decidedly totaled by the impact. The front of mine was a mangled mess; the side of his was irretrievably damaged.

The only regret he expressed was that the truck was his son’s, and he wondered how to break the news to him. In all the time we spent together mopping up after the accident, he never said one ill word to me. I’m still puzzled by that, still in awe of his sincere, focused concern not only for our physical well being, but our emotional and mental well being as well.

I never caught his full name. In the frantic aftermath of such an experience, you don’t think about things like that. I’ll call him Sam.

Whenever I observe someone who, believing they’ve been wronged, reacts with enraged aggression and damaging, scathing words, or worse, I think of Sam — a man who clearly had his life in control. He taught a lot of life lessons in our short time together, things like: Proper priority puts people first and things second.

Being prepared to make split second decisions based on kindness and reason rather than emotion blesses everyone involved.

Finding fault, being offended, demanding justice, or getting even are never as important as taking care of people’s needs.

Our daily, sometimes angst-filled lives offer opportunities to be offended. It’s likely that if we want to be offended, we can find a reason. Sadly, some of us expend energy on actually searching for ways to be offended so we can seek attention and sympathy. There’s nothing good in that, no contribution to the good of the whole, no lasting satisfaction, nothing like the fulfillment that comes from forgiving and moving on. Being offended when no offense is intended is one of life’s greatest wastes.

In one second I endangered a man’s life and destroyed his irreplaceable vehicle. In the next few seconds he made a choice to show compassion over condemnation, forgiveness over fault finding. And then he stuck with it.

Sam was a class act — an example to anyone who wants to believe there’s a better way to handle sudden, difficult moments.

I want to be more like Sam. It will take some work, starting with lengthening my fuse, repositioning my priorities, and practicing how to love everyone, including strangers. Especially strangers. None of those seem to be a waste of time or effort. So if not now, then when?

Because you never know when someone’s going to come crashing into your world.

D. Louise Brown lives in Layton. She writes a biweekly column for the Standard-Examiner.