I was going to Wal-Mart Tuesday. I needed a new skillet. I thought about asking to take my friend’s car, but then I thought, “Why would I? My car is fine.” I took my car. It’s funny how each little decision can change your personal history.
I went to Wal-Mart. When I got inside, I realized that the lotion that I bought a few days before, which I wanted to return, was still in my car. I thought about going back out to get it before I started shopping. I decided it was too hot to go back outside. I thought “I’ll bring it in when I take this stuff out.”
I bought the things I needed, and looked around at things I didn’t need. A trip to Wal-Mart is hardly ever just in and out. When I went back to the car I put my new purchases in the back. I saw the lotion I wanted to return there, and some bags that I wanted to recycle. I thought about taking them in, but I decided that I would certainly be back to Wal-Mart soon. I’d do it later.
I wonder if I had taken my friend’s car if things would have been somehow different.
If I had taken the lotion in and returned it, and recycled those bags, would those few minutes have changed what happened on the way home?
Maybe not.
On the way home I was driving down Abram Road. My light was green. I saw a car coming toward the intersection. It looked like it wasn’t going to stop. Too late I realized it was in fact not going to stop. I slammed on my breaks. She saw me. She swerved.
Accidents happen in slow motion.
My front passenger side hit her front driver side. The speed limit is 35. It wasn’t a hard impact.
In both cars the majority of the damage was that the fenders were bent down and rubbing the wheels.
She was a young woman. “It’s not my car! It’s not my car! I don’t know what to do!”
I tend to be very calm in these situations. Some people think it’s because I’m in shock. I think it is just how God programmed me. Some people react calmly to minor emergency. Some people react calmly to bigger crises.
My dorm room flooded once in college. I freaked out for about five minutes. Then I realized I could shut off the water myself. Three inches of water on the floor later, crisis averted.
When something life threatening happens around me, I understand the seriousness of it, but the fact that I have avoided the danger makes me immediately happy. I want to laugh. “I made it!” “Thank you Jesus!” Sometimes I do laugh. This makes people think that I must be in shock. I may be, but I don’t think so. Usually after something very serious happens I like to play a game of chance. Just to see if I’m still lucky after the event; the lottery- or some such game. I never win, but I’m not sad. At least I’m alive to play.
She didn’t know what to do. I said, “We should move the cars out of the intersection and exchange insurance information.”
She said, “I don’t know what to do, it’s not my car.”
I said, “Do you want to call the police?”
She said, “It’s not my car!”
I said, “Go ahead and call them if you think that’s best.”
She called them. They told her to move her car out of the intersection.
I moved mine too.
They came, bent our fenders away from the wheels. They made sure we exchanged information, asked us if we were alright.
They didn’t ask what happened- they didn’t care. No questions, no reports.
She says her light was green. Well, of course- it wasn’t her car.
Now my car has this scrunched up expression.
It has this sheepish half smile.
D says it looks like it has some sort of palsy.
My car is handicapped.
We are waiting to hear back what the insurance companies decide. I don’t have comprehensive, so I’ll probably end up paying for mine.
I’ve already starting obsessing about a Z just like mine on E-bay. The bidding started at $500. It doesn’t run- but I just need it’s parts. I hope nobody bids on it! It should be mine!
I went to Wal-Mart. When I got inside, I realized that the lotion that I bought a few days before, which I wanted to return, was still in my car. I thought about going back out to get it before I started shopping. I decided it was too hot to go back outside. I thought “I’ll bring it in when I take this stuff out.”
I bought the things I needed, and looked around at things I didn’t need. A trip to Wal-Mart is hardly ever just in and out. When I went back to the car I put my new purchases in the back. I saw the lotion I wanted to return there, and some bags that I wanted to recycle. I thought about taking them in, but I decided that I would certainly be back to Wal-Mart soon. I’d do it later.
I wonder if I had taken my friend’s car if things would have been somehow different.
If I had taken the lotion in and returned it, and recycled those bags, would those few minutes have changed what happened on the way home?
Maybe not.
On the way home I was driving down Abram Road. My light was green. I saw a car coming toward the intersection. It looked like it wasn’t going to stop. Too late I realized it was in fact not going to stop. I slammed on my breaks. She saw me. She swerved.
Accidents happen in slow motion.
My front passenger side hit her front driver side. The speed limit is 35. It wasn’t a hard impact.
In both cars the majority of the damage was that the fenders were bent down and rubbing the wheels.
She was a young woman. “It’s not my car! It’s not my car! I don’t know what to do!”
I tend to be very calm in these situations. Some people think it’s because I’m in shock. I think it is just how God programmed me. Some people react calmly to minor emergency. Some people react calmly to bigger crises.
My dorm room flooded once in college. I freaked out for about five minutes. Then I realized I could shut off the water myself. Three inches of water on the floor later, crisis averted.
When something life threatening happens around me, I understand the seriousness of it, but the fact that I have avoided the danger makes me immediately happy. I want to laugh. “I made it!” “Thank you Jesus!” Sometimes I do laugh. This makes people think that I must be in shock. I may be, but I don’t think so. Usually after something very serious happens I like to play a game of chance. Just to see if I’m still lucky after the event; the lottery- or some such game. I never win, but I’m not sad. At least I’m alive to play.
She didn’t know what to do. I said, “We should move the cars out of the intersection and exchange insurance information.”
She said, “I don’t know what to do, it’s not my car.”
I said, “Do you want to call the police?”
She said, “It’s not my car!”
I said, “Go ahead and call them if you think that’s best.”
She called them. They told her to move her car out of the intersection.
I moved mine too.
They came, bent our fenders away from the wheels. They made sure we exchanged information, asked us if we were alright.
They didn’t ask what happened- they didn’t care. No questions, no reports.
She says her light was green. Well, of course- it wasn’t her car.
Now my car has this scrunched up expression.
It has this sheepish half smile.
D says it looks like it has some sort of palsy.
My car is handicapped.
We are waiting to hear back what the insurance companies decide. I don’t have comprehensive, so I’ll probably end up paying for mine.
I’ve already starting obsessing about a Z just like mine on E-bay. The bidding started at $500. It doesn’t run- but I just need it’s parts. I hope nobody bids on it! It should be mine!
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