Four Month Relationship

Creative Nonfiction

I was in a car accident this week, which could have ended worse than it did, though I’m still coping with the practical effects. It’s occupying my mind to the exclusion of other thoughts, so it will be the subject of this week’s post. I can tell that my phrasing, when I write, reflects the way my brain is working at the moment, two days post-accident, please bear with me!

I was coming home from work, after the last visit of the day, driving down a wide suburban road, three lanes on each side. It’s a straight road, and I noted the green traffic lights gleaming in front of me at the next two intersections. And then, there was a car coming at me from the side - not moving towards me from a distance, but driving directly into my car. The moment hung there, and then the force of the impact knocked my car over to the right side of the intersection. It was like that physics problem, when two objects collide at X and Y speeds, and the forces combine.

The other driver had missed stopping at his red light; instead of stopping, he had accelerated. But, he wasn’t running past yellow in this case, he was driving through solid red into moving traffic. I didn’t visualize the scenario until later, but that’s how it happened.

At the time, I felt the impact, my car stopped moving, airbags deployed, and the cabin started filling with smoky vapor. [My son informed me after the fact, new cars are designed to prevent fire in this kind of situation and emit some kind of chemical]. For the first moment, I wondered if I was hurt, and then I couldn’t seem to find the door handle, underneath the airbag.

When I opened the door, there was a group of young men standing in front of me. One of them sensibly suggested I turn off the car; it seemed like a good idea, because the oil had spilled out onto the toad, and the engine was running; another young man called 911, telling me there was a fire station nearby. [We don’t hear as much about helpful young men, as destructive ones]. I crawled back into the car, beneath the airbags - wondering momentarily whether this was actually a good idea - turned off the ignition, and picked up my cell phone, which had fallen to the floor. I discovered that cell phones register car accidents, my screen let me know the phone had recorded the impact at 4:51pm.

Going over to the other car, I observed that I could walk. I’m generally calm during emergencies, though my heart races in response to myriad everyday situations. In this case, it seemed a little odd that my pulse was so steady.

The other driver was sitting in his car, the door open, his legs facing out. His driver’s side airbag hadn’t deployed, the passenger side had struck my car. He appeared to be an older man, though not elderly. Later, I overheard him talking to the emergency personnel, and he’s actually not much older than me. Maybe it was the dazed expression on his face that made him appear older, or some other reason. When I walked over, the man looked up and said, “I don’t know why I did that - I thought I was stopped, I don’t know why I speeded up.”

“It’s OK,” I said. [Well, not exactly OK]. “I mean, we’re here talking to each other, so this could be worse.”

“Maybe we should exchange information. I’ve never had an accident before.”

“I think the police and fire department are coming, they’ll tell us what to do.”

The young men came back over and asked for my car key. They wanted to move my car out of the intersection, to prevent another collision. I wondered for the first time how they had gotten there so quickly, and looking up I saw a giant car wash on the corner, which explained where the young men had come from. I told them, since the fire station was nearby, they should probably stay away from the car for now. When I next looked around they had gone from the scene, and the police and fire trucks were pulling up.

Lights flashed, the emergency personnel asked questions about what happened and whether I wanted to be checked out. The other driver did request to be checked - I was doing OK, though a bit light-headed by this point. I told them I was all right, signing the form, indicating I declined medical services.

Very efficiently, the emergency workers cleared the site, throwing down sand. A man from the towing company put his business card into my hand, telling me to call him tomorrow. I had stepped away while the EMS talked to the other driver, now I walked back, as we waited for the police officers to return with our licenses and information.

“I was afraid you were going to be a big guy, and yell at me,” the man said. I noticed he had a work badge from the school district where I had worked for many years. I introduced myself, and told him I had worked for the district as well. I think he was a high school teacher, returning home at the end of the day. Around this time, his wife arrived. We waited together until one of the officers came back with slips of paper where he had hand-written the information for us, the case number and the other person’s name and policy number. “I did this old-school,” he said, “my printer’s not working.” He looked at the other driver and said, “You’re lucky I can’t print you a ticket.”

The scene suddenly became quiet, as the emergency workers all left at once. The man still looked shaken. The three of us were the only people left standing there. Actually, the man was sitting in a wheelchair. I’d seen him stand up earlier, but now he was sitting in a wheelchair. I don’t know if he had it in his car, or his wife had brought it.

“This is where life experience is helpful,” I said. “We know worse things happen. Insurance is going to sort this out, and it will be OK.”

“I guess you’re right,” the man said, doubtfully. “We probably won’t remember this happened in ten years.” His wife and I caught each other’s eye. None of us would be worried about this in ten years.

I’m glad I walked away from the accident this week, though I really do want my car back. I had that beautiful midnight-blue Accord for exactly four months. I made myself go down to the dealership today, as mental preparation for car-buying again next week. I was glad to hear my 150K mile warranty will transfer. My car never made it to 10K miles.

It’s funny the way we become attached to cars. They’re not just transportation, they are the personal space that moves around with us. Especially with my new job. driving around doing visits throughout the day, I’ve spent a lot of time in my car lately. I wasn’t ready for our journey together to end so soon. By the time I publish my next post, it is likely I will have begun a new relationship, though I’m not ready for it.

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