I talked about how freeway overpasses in the L.A. area remind me of earthquakes and make me nervous?
There was even a picture . . .
Same place, roughly 24 hours later.
If you haven't seen/read the story in the news, here's an article about it.
Being in a vehicle scares the holy crap outta me on a good day.
When I was 19ish, I learned to drive by hiring the Sears driving school to teach me. I lived in Sherman Oaks and worked at Hollywood & Franklin, so my 'class' would either be the morning commute to work or the evening commute home. It was a great way to learn driving! It was hair-raising some days, believe you me, but a priceless experience overall.
For years I would drive the highways and byways of California (and sometimes Northern Nevada) with nary a care. I didn't just throw caution to the wind back then, I hurled it as hard as possible. I've driven through the center of California enveloped in a thick blanket of fog (and being a *Coast* gal, I thought I knew from fog! Tule River/Central California fog is unfuckingbelievable. You have to open your car door to see the line in the road, and I kid you not), traversed over I-80 between Sacramento and Reno during many a snowy day & night - if there were difficult driving conditions to be had, I drove them. One time, on the way to work in Reno, the road was icy (it was there I learned the term "Black Ice") and I took a curve too fast and completely spun around in the middle of the street. Luckily it was a little side road and noone else was on it. Made my heart stop for a second, but hey, a girl's gotta get to work and earn the Kibble so I shook it off and motored on.
From about 1987 until about 2002, I'd never had a car accident - not caused one and not been the victim of one either. Let me take an honesty break though. One time I rear-ended my boyfriend (at the time, roughly 1988) because I was following him while we were driving through Beverly Hills and I was looky-looing the mansions and didn't realize he'd stopped at the stop sign. It was a tap of nose (mine) to tail (his) and it still makes me laugh. Gawd I was a young dumb girl back then! Oh, and accidents don't count when you hit your own boyfriend going all of 4 miles an hour while ogling the rich! That's a Universe Law, I'm sure!
Soo . . . I'd gotten through a long history of accident-free driving until about 2002.
First accident - my fault: I had just pulled out of my work parking lot and was going through The Village (of Arroyo Grande for those not up on Central Coast geography). I glanced away and BLAM! Smacked right into the back of a boat prop. A boat being towed in front of me. D'OH. The guy was really nice about it all. The boat's propeller screwed up the front of my little compact bad though. My hood accordioned up and the radiator was smooshed back against the engine. Thankfully, there was zippy damage to his motor. Now that we own a boat I understand that his motor would've cost a a tidy sum to repair/replace.
Second accident - not my fault: Again with the 'just leaving work' thing. This time I'd made it down Traffic Way, just past the post office, and a lady in a HUGE ASS VEHICLE (seriously, it should have been painted camouflage and had the words U.S. ARMY stenciled on the sides of that tank!) pulled outta Mullahey Ford smack into the front of my little compact. BLAM! Scared the fuck out of me. She was very nice, and the Mullahey Ford guys all came to help and everything was eventually alright with the world. It didn't hurt that her insurance company dropped a wad of cash in my lap big enough to finance a week-long trip to D.C. (another story for another day) and a financial cushion to give this single chick (at the time) enough Kibble fund to keep the cats fat and sassy for quite a while. Oh, and my car was considered 'totalled' and they also provided me with enough of the green stuff to purchase a kick-ass Mazda MX-3. WITH A SUNROOF! SCORE! Man I loved that car.
Third accident - fault to be determined: We had lived in our current town for ummmm . . . one week. That's it. I pulled out of a dirt driveway about 7pm in April 2004 (twilight, in case you were wondering), went left about 100 feet and then went left again into another driveway. I signalled both turns. On my second left, as I was making the turn, I heard a screetch on my left while almost simultaneously getting smashed into at the driver's side door, and then I saw a man go flying in the air across my windshield and over the hood. It was all *snaps fingers* THAT FAST. It was a hard fucking hit. On reflection, I realize now it was a wreck and not an accident. I got the SUV off the road for safety and went to the man lying at the front of my in-laws driveway. I checked on him. He wasn't moving, but he was alive. I went running down the driveway to my in-laws' house. My husband had gone with his dad to 'cruise' for a while and I'd been at one of their mobile homes spending time with our animals (we were staying there temporarily while house shopping). I got to their back door and started screaming "MIL call 911 call 911 there's been an accident at the driveway" and then I went running back down the road to the man.
***If you are squeamish, then don't read the next three paragraphs.***
These are my memories of all that happened next, so probably a part is 'hysteria' and a part is 'coping mechanism' and a part is 'sheer fucking disbelief' that any of this is really happening in the first place.
I got back to him and he was coming to. He was moaning and sweating SO profusely but he wasn't really conscious yet. All I could do was kneel down at his side and stroke his head and arm while telling him that people were on their way and he was 'going to be okay'. I said it over and over and over, and then over again.
Then I really looked at him. He was not 'okay'. His top lip was ripped in half and hanging down from gravity. He was lying on his left side but his left foot was over his right leg and faced the wrong direction. Nothing about that looked 'okay'. When that realization hit me, I also realized that NOONE WAS COMING. No sirens, no ambulances, no police. Nothing. Oh wait, there was a fucking gawker stopped on the road, directly across from us, using his cell phone to either text or take pictures - I dunno, but not fucking doing anything productive. One lady walked up, handed me a blanket and said something along the lines of "Please use this if you need it - it was in my car. I'm sorry. Bless you for doing what you're doing. I can't help you do that." Even though she couldn't look at us, she touched my heart and she'll never know since I don't know who she is. I remember seeing car headlights lined up on each side of the road, going slowly past. Being cautious or being gawkers . . . ? Dunno.
***Commence to reading unsqueamish parts now***
When it really dawned on my that NOONE WAS COMING, I took off again down the driveway, back to the in-laws house and screamed at my MIL "call 911 where is anyone noone is coming we need an ambulance RIGHT NOW". She yelled back that she was on the phone "with 911 RIGHT NOW", so I booked it back to the road and the guy. He was really coming to at that point, rocking back and forth and making feeble attempts to get up. In his condition, I knew I had to restrain his mobility. Personally, and I have zero medical knowledge, I think the pain was causing him to regain consciousness.
Shortly after, a fire truck showed up and went to the man. He was lucid enough at that point to answer questions about his name and address. I'd never thought to engage him in conversation - I was too scared for him. My plan was to keep him safe by sheer willpower. That's the only 'coping mechanism' I know.
Shortly after that, my husband and his dad pulled up, having just heard about it from my MIL.
The man got treated at the scene and transported to the local hospital.
I didn't even know his name at that point.
The CHP asked me basic questions - name, address, CDL #, workplace, what happened, phone number blahblahblah. That's when the uncontrollable shaking kicked in. I always do that once the levelheaded part of me can take a backseat. They said I could pick up their preliminary report the next day.
The next morning, after a stop at the CHP office, we tried to get info from the hospital but no dice. There was a law passed about patient confidentiality and since we weren't family, nope. Not gonna tell us. I spent that day in a fog. The next day, The Mike & I were at the mobile home with our pets and I noticed two/three CHP cars on the main road and pointed it out to him. He called his dad (at the next driveway over) and they walked down to see what was what. After a few minutes of contained curiosity, I moseyed out the the deck and took a listen to what was being discussed amongst them all.
Alls I heard was "peasandcarrotspeasandcarrots he died last night peasandcarrots"
My heart dropped. The Mike and his dad walked back up to me and I know my husband knew that I'd heard.
I can't even tell you. All of us were crestfallen to hear those words uttered.
Nothing can prepare you for something like that. Nothing. Noth. Ing. Nutt'n Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing.
This has been the lowest of low proportions.
That man died.
Nothing will change that.
I think of him daily. Every time I enjoy a laugh or a flower or my cat's antics or my husband's 'funny' or a motorcycle passing by or a quiet reflective moment. He doesn't have those times and his family doesn't have those times with him (whether they did then or not - I dunno - but I hope they did.)
Since his death the following has happened:
I was found at fault for making a legal left-hand turn. The CHP officer's reasoning is that he was 'on that road longer' than I was. He made a legal pass on the left at the same time I made a legal left turn. He did not have a working headlight (remember - twilight) and he was not wearing a Department of Transportation sanctioned helmet (in fact, his helmet flew from his head at the accident and was found several feet away, unstrapped). The official accident report states that he was 'under the influence' but doesn't explain of WHAT and HOW MUCH.
Right after the accident and for the last few years, we've been told anecdotal stories about his drug use and what he was doing earlier the day of the accident. Did I tell you we live in a teensy tiny postage-stamp-sized of a town? We do.
It's been three-plus years since that happened and in ohh-about March/April of 2007 We got served civil papers.
Yes, there is a two-year statute, but they stated they've spent that time 'trying to find' us. We lived at the scene of the accident for two more months and then lived right down the road for ohhhh, I dunno . . . THREE MORE YEARS! I'd worked at the same job on the accident report until May of 2007 - and not in some hidden office. Right the fuck inside the front door of the place. His daughter and her family live 6 doors down. Really reallys.
When we were served . . . ? Almost 3 years to the day.
Think of a dollar amount that would shake your Earth to win OR be sued by. No really. Name a number. What would rock your Lotto winn'n ass or make you puke your guts out to get sued for? One Million? That's a serious chunk of Kibble. Two Million? Try $4.6. As in Million.
That's my story and that's why I can no longer drive down the road with nary a care.
Shit happens beyond your control and it's awful sometimes. Just like entering a tunnel to merge with the I-5, at 55 mph with no worries.
BLAM.
That fucking quick.
No comments:
Post a Comment