This writing exercise was to write about an accident using a single sentence, then a paragraph, then expand it out into a bigger story. I based this on a car accident I had while travelling between Dallas to San Antonio many years ago.
One sentence summary
The Oldsmobile Delta 88 spun clockwise, then counter-clockwise, until it smashed into the fence lining the dividing lane, then careened to the opposite lane before coming to a stop.
Paragraph
The rear wheels of the Delta 88 shimmied behind me to my left, impossibly buoyed by a slim layer of water lifting 2 tons of automobile off the asphalt. The car floated lazily until the left rear wheel moved onto the grassy divider that separated the northbound and southbound lanes. The sudden traction whipped the car around in the opposite direction. The vehicle straightened out just in time to hit the wrought iron fence located along the lane divider. Glenn Frey’s harmonies of Peaceful Easy Feelin’ were drowned out by the SMASH, SMASH, SMASH as the fence pummeled the left side of the car.
Scene
My yellow white-water kayak, extra-large to accommodate my 6 foot 4 inch frame, was securely roped to the top of my Oldsmobile Delta88. Now I just had to get it and my 6 foot 4 inch self down to the Guadalupe River in south Texas.
It was sleep-inducing, driving from Dallas to San Antonio. You could turn on the cruise control, set it to 80, tie down the steering wheel, and take a nap. Well, no, not that last part; but it was almost possible. Texans like to point their highways straight, straight, straight. It was an arrow-straight strip of road from horizon to horizon. The northbound lane matched it on the other side of a grassy divide.
The rest of the landscape was pure Texas, mostly dried wheat-colored grass and a few small scraggly trees. I had the Eagles on the radio and nothing else to care about for the next few hours.
A storm had come through an hour ago. I was careful to turn off the cruise control while the drops fell. But after the downpour stopped, the Texas summer sun shone bright. The road dried within minutes. I turned the cruise control back on, kicked back, and relaxed.
“It’s almost as flat as Kansas,” I thought.
But not flat enough. There was a dip in the road, hardly anything I would have noticed if the road had been dry.
I remember seeing the sheen of the water the moment before I hit. My hindbrain screamed at me to slow down, to take off the cruise control.
Too late.
One moment the car was going straight–the next moment the back wheels shimmied to the left. I had no time to steer, no time to brake, no time to think.
I remember Glenn Frey singing “…got a world of trouble on my mind…”
Yeah, you and me both, Glenn.
The left rear wheel went off the road first, gaining traction on the divider. The car went from slipping counter-clockwise and whipped into the opposite direction. Before it could spin around completely, the car hit something HARD on the left. The something went BANG BANG BANG BANG against my door. My car window shattered and sprayed glass dust all over me.
Whatever the car smashed into spun it around further before spitting the car out like the whale regurgitating Jonah. Then we stopped.
Somehow, the car was back on the road. How? After all that, I couldn’t still be on the road, right?
My brain screamed, Idiot, you’re in the other lane! Sure enough, the car was sitting in the northbound lane, pointing south.
It would be cute to say I was brave and collected. In fact, I was thoroughly terrified. But in the past few years, I had learned something new about fear.
I had learned to use it.
“Move the car!” my fear shouted at me. “Move before a car smashes into you!”
The motor was still on. Glenn Frey was still singing. I pushed down the accelerator and twisted the steering wheel toward the other side of the road. Maybe going across the divider would have been the better choice, but I wasn’t in the mood to take a poll.
My gears in my Delta88 screamed in protest as if to say Haven’t I done enough? Not yet, old girl, just one more thing to do. Get me off this goddammed road! She lurched forward, clambered over the northbound lane, and finally came to rest just off the side of the road.
Out of danger.
I moved the car a bit more to point it north. I wanted to put most of what was left of my car between me and any northbound cars.
I looked out my front window. There were skid marks in the grass in the dividing lane. A mangled wrought iron fence defined a path of destruction. My driver-side window was gone. There were some small glass shards on my lap and a few spots of blood on my bare legs.
The Eagles sang in multi-part harmony– “…and I know you woooonnnn’t let me dooowww—owwwnnn!”
I turned off the ignition. The Eagles shut up. Good. They were getting on my nerves.
In the abrupt silence, I leaned my head on the steering wheel.
You didn’t let me down, girl. My trusty Delta88. You kept me safe. Rest easy now.
It was the last time I would ever drive my beloved Olds.
My kayak, it turned out, was fine.
That’s really how it all happened. As scary as the experience was, I was very, very lucky that no one else was involved. Another piece of luck is that a man from a Texas safety office witnessed the crash. He came over to check on me within a minute after the crash. After he made sure I was okay, he radioed the highway patrol and my insurance company. At some point, a tow truck was called. In the ancient days before cell phones, this was very helpful as I didn’t have any easy way to get to the next gas station. That stretch of road was not densely occupied.
Despite the violence of the crash, the outside of my beloved Oldsmobile Delta88 didn’t look that bad at first. But when the tow truck arrived, the driver took one look and said, “Yep, your frame is bent. That’s a totaled car.” It was sad.
I had a few scratches on my legs from the window breaking next to me, but no other physical damage. Psychologically, though, I was pretty shaken up. Should I cancel my kayaking trip and go home?
The tow truck driver inspired me to not go that way. He had a very Zen attitude. He told me, “Neither you or anyone else was hurt. Your kayak is fine. You have good insurance. They’re going to provide you with a loaner car. I suggest you put your kayak on the loaner and take it down to the river. Forget about the accident. You can’t do anything about it this weekend. Go ahead and enjoy your vacation.”
I imagine I wasn’t the first freaked out accident victim this driver had to calm down. He did it by pointing out the things I could change and the things I could not. At the end of the day, this wasn’t going to destroy my life. It was not fun, for sure, but I would survive it just fine.
It took a while, but the loaner car finally arrived at the tow truck office. I loaded up my kayak and got to the river later that night. I enjoyed the rest of my trip.
Eventually, the state of Texas sent me a bill for the fence. I believe that other cars must have careened off this section of road just as I did. Otherwise, why install the fence?
I didn’t mind paying for the fence. After all, it possibly saved my life.
I did miss that Delta88. It was built like a tank and protected me when it counted.