the Accident

I noticed my bruises beginning to appear on Sunday night after the accident that morning—on my knees, my forearm, and big, ugly ones on the back of my upper left arm.  Emotionally, I didn’t feel anything during the crash.  I felt like I was very still, contained though I could feel the car rolling and bouncing into the air multiple times.  It was like one of those rides at a fair, the kind that whips you around so fast you can’t really move.  I knew I was rolling; my car was rolling, but there was nothing I could do, so I closed my eyes and waited for it to stop.  I remember thinking, so this is happening.

I was only half an hour from Savannah; I hadn’t realized I was so close.  For the past half hour, I’d been sleepy, but I had my audio book playing (which, despite popular belief, had proven better at keeping me focused than loud music) and was looking for a safe place to pull over and take a quick 10-minute nap.  I found out later that that particular stretch of I-16 is practically empty.  As there was no rest stop or exit to be had, I continued.  I must have dozed for a few seconds because I found myself opening my eyes, and I was off the road in rocks and grass.  I quickly turned the wheel to steer back onto the road when I noticed the sign immediately ahead of me.  I swerved to avoid it, but I was too close and my cruise (set at 75 miles per hour) had me going too fast to miss it.  As I hit the pole, I don’t remember feeling any impact, though there obviously was one because it made Stella swing around about 100˚ and then roll over three times, back across the interstate into the median.

When everything was still again, I opened my eyes, put my hands to my head, and felt frizziness.  Amusingly enough, my first thought was, what did all that rolling do to my hair?  I suppose I had expected my hair to be smoother than it was.  The next few moments brought me back to reality and more pressing matters like where is my phone?  I noticed all of my things tossed about the cabin, jumbled with broken, powdered glass.  I had felt nothing during the accident, but now there was slight panic when I couldn’t find my phone anywhere and couldn’t open my door to get out.  But a woman was coming toward me, and she called to ask if I was okay.  I told her yes, but I was stuck.  She helped me open the door that had jammed and checked to see if I was really all right.  The paramedics and police and fire department arrived quickly, in about two minutes.  They checked me out, and then all the boring stuff started.

That night, I had a dream I was in the accident again, either mine or a similar one.  I woke up in a rush, sitting straight up in bed, but there was no screaming, no heavy breathing, and no fear.  Not then or during the real accident.  It just happened.  I didn’t have anymore crash dreams after that.

God’s grace was evident in so many ways.  I was buckled.  The laptop didn’t hit me as it flew out of my broken window and onto the road; in fact, nothing hit me though the car was packed full of my stuff.  No one else was coming when I flipped back across the interstate.  I landed in the median on all four tires and not upside down or on my side.  A couple driving in the opposite direction saw the accident happen and called 9-1-1.  I got my laptop from the road before it was rolled over.  Also, I got no ticket, even though I took out a sign.  I wonder which one it was.  

And Stella protected me.  I very much liked her and became sad when I realized that she saved me, and I killed her.  If the side air bags hadn’t deployed, I’m sure my entire left side, especially my head and face, would have suffered severe damage.  I’m fine with the things I lost—all the clutter and my busted laptop—it feels like a chance to start fresh. I would have been okay had I lost my portfolio and work from SCAD, although I know people would consider that important.  They’re just material things, just stuff.  But Stella was my car.  Yes, just a car, but the perfect car—my dream 2006 CR-V, white, classy yet adventurous.  And it kind of hurts that it’s my fault she’s gone, as silly as that is.

When Kim and Virgil came to get me at the wrecker’s, I thought I would cry when I saw their familiar faces; after all, I kept tearing up when I talked to my dad that morning.  But by that time, everything had been taken care of and there was nothing left to cry over.  I talked to the insurance company, and they were going to take care of everything on their end.  I talked to the deputy who drove me to the wrecker and stayed with me until Kim and Virgil arrived.  He told me what I could expect from the insurance company, about renting a car, etc.  I had no idea what one does after an accident because the TV shows and movies only show the exciting parts.  When the Kings showed up, they gave me tight hugs and surveyed the damage of the car in quiet shock.  There was nothing left to do but flaunt my #9 Krewe de Drew shirt and remind Virgil again how my precious Saints could beat his Colts anytime, be it the Superbowl game two years ago or that embarrassing match-up a few months ago when we crushed them 63-7. 

Later that day, Virgil told me again how I should never get on the road without sunflower seeds and a brown paper bag.  We’d had this conversation before.

Me: I don’t want sunflower seeds.  The fact that you have a bag designated for spitting is disgusting.

Virgil: But you’ll be in the car by yourself.  No one will see you.

Me: But then I’d gross myself out.

Conclusion:  Nobody wins this argument.

However, in light of recent events, I will embark on my next road trip armed with a bag of sunflower seeds and a brown paper bag.




And that is all.

Arielle