Friday 2: 17 pm

There are moments in life that you see on TV when you’re younger and you never think they can really happen until they happen right in front of you.  Being in a car crash is one of those things.  I was sixteen when I had my first wreck.  I was making a left hand turn and from behind this hill came zooming over a flash of color and metal and the next thing I knew, my car had stopped and my head was throbbing.  But, I was alive.  I had survived it with no injury.  I wish I could say the same thing for this one.

We were cruising along on Division Street, when my Dad looked back because of something my little brother Andy said.  From out of nowhere but right in front of us, a black pickup crashed head long into us.  It was probably a second between the time I noticed it and the time it hit us, but I swear I could slow the time down to a crawl and watch the impact in it’s every detail.  It was surreal.  It sounded like a metal garbage truck falling off the side of the Sears tower, just loud metal hitting loud metal and mashing together into one huge mess.  I can’t say exactly how we got from the crash to the next few moments and I don’t think I ever will.  They are moments lost to me.  There was the impact, and I flinched back as soon as it happened.  I could see my Grandmother as I winced and she threw her hands in the air and screamed but I couldn’t hear the volume.  I think the van moved, into the air and to the right, a few feet.  Then I remember Grandmas was outside , on the concrete, on her side, coughing. I saw Dad, and he was hurt.  Mom was crying and holding her head, as Andy and Tom puled on her door and helped her out.  I heard voices, and I saw smoke.  The voices weren’t even ours; they were the people everywhere watching and they weren’t saying anything I could discern, but I knew they were talking.

Then, I heard the sirens.  Dad had glass in his shoulder, a large chunk.  I wanted to pull it out, but he wouldn’t let me.  The rescue team had shown up and carefully removed him from the vehicle.  Dad was loaded up into the ambulance as was the rest of us before I knew what was happening. I never saw the other guy, the guy driving the truck.  I don’t know who he was or how it affected him.  And at that point, and to this day, as heartless as it sounds, I don’t care.

 

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