So, I’m going east, and I’m in the fast lane. And there’s a panel truck going west and there’s no dividing fence or anything on the highway. And the panel truck is in the fast lane and this SUV comes rolling out of the westbound slow lane and right into oncoming traffic.
Which means me.
My first thought was, “Oh”. What else do you say? You’re driving along and all of a sudden there’s an overturned SUV less that six feet in front of you.
And my next thought was, “I hope that keeps rolling, or I’m going to hit it.”
Which is what it did. It kept rolling and suddenly whatever was next to me wasn’t. I think it was a mini-van or something like that, but suddenly, the shadow next to me—the shadow in the slow lane—was gone.
So I pulled over on the side of the highway. And I was thinking, “What good am I in a situation like this? I don’t have a cell phone. How am I going to call for help?” So I started walking to the accident site.
You couldn’t tell there had been two cars there. It was just so much scrap metal across the road, so much twisted mess. Gasoline was all over the road. Clothes were all over the place; the car next to me had been filled with bags and boxes of clothes and now they were all over the road. In the dirt. In the gasoline.
I thought maybe I could help? And the question isn’t, “was anyone hurt?” It’s, “how many were killed?”
There had been a puppy in that car.
And out of the corner of one eye I could see the other people who had stopped. Someone had a cell phone. Someone called for help.
And in what feels like seconds, help is there. There’s a sheriff with his hand on my shoulder asking me if I’m okay to drive.
Yeah, I answer.
“I suggest you continue on your journey,” the sheriff tells me.
Which means that there are deaths and because I’m not family I need to get gone while they clean it up.
And I got back in the car and drove to Houston. I passed a lot of SUV’s on the way back.
I got to the hotel room and called Dallas, called Phil because I wanted to hear his voice and wanted to hear him tell me it was okay.
Then hopped online to leave a message for Kris to let her know what had happened.
And e-mail to my mom to let her know what had happened but I was okay so don’t even start to freak out.
And I cried. And I had a beer and talked to friends online. And Phil came online and I talked to him about it.
I saw the windshield of the SUV as it passed in front of me. Why couldn’t I remember the faces of the driver and his passenger?
How long had I stood there, by the side of the road, until help came?
Why did I remember the puppy, but not the people?
And I took a sleeping pill and passed out.
Went to work the next day, like it had never happened. Went on with my life like it had never happened. I can’t freak out. I can’t break down. Who’s going to drive me around if I’m too afraid to get in the car? I can’t take time off from work; I’m on a contract. I can’t let that scare me out of living my life.
I wasn’t hurt. The rental’s okay.
But…but, damn. What am I supposed to learn from that? SUV’s are dangerous? Well, duh. Fate is fickle and lives can be destroyed in an instant? Yeah, knew that, watch the news. Life is precious? Maybe I was supposed to learn that it doesn’t matter if you’re paying attention or following the rules or anything like that. Maybe it’s just going to happen if it’s going to happen.
Yeah, right. What crap.
I wasn’t supposed to learn anything from that. That wasn’t for my benefit; that was just a horrible, tragic accident that happened. Nothing more. Life sucks.
At least, that’s what I got out of it.