One afternoon years ago when I was a fledgling reporter at a small-town newspaper, we heard over the police scanner there had been a wreck on Main Street. I rushed uptown.

In front of a jewelry store, where there had stood a glass, standalone display case full of watches, necklaces and rings, there was now just a shiny mess. In the middle of the shards of glass and jewelry was a big sedan with an elderly man inside.

After talking with a police officer and bystanders, I learned the driver had been pulling into a diagonal parking space in front of the store when his car suddenly accelerated. The sedan jumped the curb, demolished the four-sided island of glass and stopped just short of the store.

No one was hurt, but there was enough broken glass to make cleanup a dangerous chore.

The officer told me the driver had lost control when he mistakenly hit the gas pedal instead of the brake pedal.

What else could it be? Cars don't drive themselves, he said.

A few years later, there was a sensational TV newsmagazine report that said a German luxury car model was accelerating suddenly and unintentionally, causing the vehicles to crash. Critics of the report said the blame for such crashes should be placed on inattentive drivers, those not accustomed to the layout of European pedals, and elderly drivers who became confused.

The critics' view was that the only truly runaway car was Christine, the demonic 1958 Plymouth Fury in Stephen King's novel of the same name.

Since then, cars have become more electronically controlled and computerized.

The federal government has investigated reports of sudden, unintended acceleration in all sorts of vehicles: European, American and Japanese.

There have been news stories about drivers whose cars wouldn't slow, brake or even shut off, forcing them to drive until they ran out of gas or crashed.

I didn't put much credence in those reports - although I did enjoy reading Christine - until a couple of weeks ago, when my car tried to kill me.

I was pulling out of a parking lot into rush-hour traffic. There was a car ahead of me.

The parking lot sloped down a bit, so I had my foot on the brake pedal as I waited for the car in front of me to catch a break in traffic.

Suddenly, my engine revved wide open and my car lunged forward.

I jammed the brake pedal to the floor, but my car kept moving.

It felt like I was being pushed, but no one was behind.

I realized that if I rammed the car ahead, I would shove it into heavy traffic, where it would be broadsided, and then follow it myself. I quickly moved the gearshift lever into neutral and turned off the ignition.

The action in the previous paragraphs - from lunging to cutting off the engine - occurred in a split second, much less time than it takes to tell.

After catching my breath, I started the engine. It began to run fast again, so I shut it off. The next time I turned the key, the engine ran normally.

I drove home gingerly, with my hand on the gearshift lever, ready to hit neutral again.

The engine worked normally, though, and the next day the dealer replaced part of the throttle.

I am thankful I was able to react quickly enough to keep from crashing into traffic at, literally, breakneck speed. I wonder, though, what the police accident report and bystanders might have had to say in that event.

Would they have written the crash off as just another old guy who got confused and hit the gas instead of the brakes?

Only Stephen King knows for sure.

Reach Glynn Moore at (706) 823-3419 or glynn.moore@augustachronicle.com.