On the evening of Tuesday the 11th of May, an automobile accident occurred southbound on Lawrence Expressway at Pruneridge Avenue in which I, in Purple Smoke, was rear-ended by a man driving a 1985 Ford van.
I was on my way home from work, taking my usual route down Lawrence when I stopped in the merge lane to wait for the 50 mph traffic to clear. Moments later, I noticed in my side view mirror that a van was turning the corner in my direction. The next thing I knew, I caught a glimpse in my rear view mirror of the van barreling toward me at a speed that made me reflexively clutch the steering wheel with fear. Sure enough, my fears were answered with a strong jolt accompanied by the sound of crushing metal. My first thoughts included, "My car!!!!" which followed with "What’s that scraping metal sound?" My car was still rolling forward from the impact. I immediately pulled the e-brake and found myself at the very end of the merge lane, fortunately not obstructing the right lane traffic that could have potentially taken me out a second time.
In turning the corner, the driver of the van apparently saw an opening in traffic and attempted to merge onto Lawrence, but failed to see me. An oversight that resulted in the devastating fate of Purple Smoke.
Shaking from the accident and grieving for my car, I did my best to assess the damages without causing further injury to whatever part of me was inevitably injured. I didn’t feel any blood trickling down any part of my body, and I wasn’t feeling any sharp pain as from a fracture, but my heart broke to see shards of glass scattered throughout the interior of Purple Smoke, including the front seats. I picked up a piece of it and examined it. Thank God for safety glass! My eyes then returned to the rear view mirror that now reflected the van about 10 feet behind me. I saw the van’s reflection through a completely void back windshield. Closer to view was the purple mass of deformity that was once the shiny, smooth body of my car. Peering at the side view mirror, I sadly noted a curly-Q-like piece of purple metal jutting out from the side of my car. My poor, poor Purple Smoke!!! All I could do was sigh in grief. This was the car I would have had forever.
The man who hit me walked up to my window and asked if I was all right. He then walked toward the witness who had been talking on his cell phone at the bus stop nearby. A car with a couple friendly and helpful people pulled over next to me to ask if I was ok and offered to call 911 on their cell phone. They then pulled over and proceeded to contact the dispatch. The driver of the van came back to check up on me and offered me his business card with his home phone written on the back. To my amazement, I discovered that he works for the same company where I work. In fact, he works in the building right next to me, and we share the same cafeteria! I took out my business card, which I had conveniently placed in the driver door pocket, and proceeded to write my home phone number. After the first three numbers, I drew a complete blank. Embarrassed as all hell, I admitted to him that I had forgotten my number. He took my card anyway.
The next time he came back to check up on me before the paramedics, fire truck, and CHP arrived, I asked for my card back. I had finally remembered my phone number. I immediately crossed off the third number I had originally written, replaced it with the correct number, and filled out the rest of my phone number.
The sirens finally rang and stopped at the site of my accident. The medical technicians immediately got to work. A medical technician quickly jumped into the back seat through the passenger door and secured my neck, while another came to the driver side window and asked me a few questions: what’s my name, my phone number, what hurts. Then a few other medical techs joined us carrying a wooden stretcher. Before I knew it, I had a brace secured to my neck and 1-2-3 I was hoisted onto the stretcher and strapped down. All the while the technicians were really friendly and assured me that this was all precautionary. They pulled me out of the car through the passenger side. The driver side door was crushed shut! I was increasingly discovering the damage my car took to protect me.
As I lay there waiting to be lifted into the ambulance truck and only able to gaze at the sky and some tall trees, into my scope of vision appears Karl’s face. Surprised to see him and somewhat embarrassed of my current state, I could only say, "Hi, Karl." He asked if I was ok and if there was anything he could do for me, like call Scott. Perfect. I was wondering how I would be able to notify him of the situation. So Karl left and called Scott and told him to which hospital the ambulance was going to take me.
Once in the ambulance truck, I looked around as much as I could, which wasn’t much since I was pretty confined to a stiff position. I had always wondered what the inside of the ambulance truck looked like, but I wasn’t planning on getting the grand tour! Throughout my ride in the ambulance, I worried about how Scott would take the news. I wondered, and not in vain, if he would beat me to the hospital.
Sure enough, as soon as I arrived in the emergency room, a doctor informed me that Scott was had already arrived and was waiting for me in the waiting room. As much as he wanted to, the doctors wouldn’t allow him to see me yet. I was strapped down to the wooden stretcher for some time before a nurse arrived to set me free. I was getting really sore from being in one position for such a long time, not to mention the lack of lumbar support!
Soon after I was set free, but left lying on my back, they let Scott in, or he let himself in—I’m still not sure of the truth. He immediately and most anxiously came toward me, but the nurse told "them" to stay back. Not only had Scott come, but so did Karl and his wife Monica to make sure I was ok. It was very kind of them to make the trip and to help during my time of helplessness. Finally, the doctor allowed Scott to approach me. It was then that the whole accident became real. Up until that point, I was just kind of in a daze, a stupor that allowed me to observe the happenings around me. Scott stayed by my side from then on, leaving only to phone my mom and tell her the news.
During the doctor’s examination of my injuries as I remained lying on my back, I discovered that I could not lift my head to touch my chin to my chest. I couldn’t even feel my muscles contract or expand to make the attempt. The discovery instilled in me the fear that I may be paralyzed! Fortunately that was not the case, but talk about a scare! Ultimately, the doctor found no serious injuries. I only suffered muscle strain and inflamation and minor internal bruises. She prescribed me some pain medication and sent me off.
The following day, Scott went down to the tow yard, where my Purple Smoke had spent the night, and took pictures of it (the "best" one shown above). After a very thorough inspection, the cost of the damage Purple Smoke incurred totalled an estimate of $14.5K. The inspector conceded that the car was hit pretty hard, at least at 40 mph. Wow…I should be so lucky as to have escaped with such minor injuries! In fact, I went to work the next day!
Today, nine days after the date of the accident, I am barely feeling that my neck and stomach muscles were sore at all. Unfortunately, though my physical pain is nearly gone, I’m still very sad that my car is wrecked. Each time I see a Mustang I miss my car. Each time I see an accident, whether it be on TV or in real life, I am reminded of mine. Worst of all, each time I make that right turn out of a parking lot, onto another street—basically each time I have to merge (I’m driving a rental), I grow overwhelmed with anxiety that I may be rear ended again. It’s not a feeling that I particularly enjoy! And it’s not a great feeling to cringe at the rear view mirror each time I see a vehicle coming to a quick stop behind me. Ugh…just don’t drive behind me. Try giving me a mile’s worth of clearance!