Off On A Tangent

I've been meaning to start this blog for a few weeks. Thanks to my wipe-out, I had the time today to get it started.

Last night I was driving from Suffield right shortly after Hurricane Hanna (downgraded to a tropical storm) started drenching Connecticut with rain. I later learned that there were tornado sightings around the state at the same time.

Just before Route 20 merges onto 91-S, there’s a very sharp curve in the road. I usually take it in the left lane, but last night I was in the right lane. I’ve driven this road numerous times, so I instinctively slow down as I approach the curve. I thought I was going slow enough last night, so I was very surprised when I suddenly felt my car sliding to the left (on the tangent). I tried to regain control, but wound up fishtailing, wiggling about the road, briefly returning to the right lane before sliding all the way to the left.

I’m not entirely clear on the sequence of events, nor am I entirely clear on exactly everything my car did. At some point after I slid onto the grassy median, my car spun around at least once and my cell phone, which had been on my lap, went flying very fast and hard to the right. I had a brief observational thought: “Crap, this really sucks,” overlaid with abstract feelings about being embarrassed to be in a second accident this year and feeling like an idiot for not having gone slower into the curve. I think I was also mildly surprised that I didn’t flip over when I hit the median.

I could see a wooded copse approaching rapidly, and then I could 91-S getting closer and closer. At this point, there were only two things left to do that I could think of: pull up on the emergency brake, and then go limp to minimize the number of broken bones. I was 100 percent certain that a massive collision was about to occur. Interestingly, going limp also meant that my brain turned off. I guess it’s some sort of defensive action. When I pulled up on the emergency brake, I scraped the back of my hand, but it took an hour before I even noticed the pain. In a crisis situation, the brain focuses on elements involved in avoiding death, and completely ignores minor details like injuries. My fate was in the hands of God, there was absolutely nothing I could do. I believed that I was about to suffer severe injury or death, so my brain suspended its processing of information.

When my car finally came to a stop in the middle of the median, I assumed the engine was dead. I tried to start up the car, but the engine was still running. The gear shift was in neutral, although I don’t know when that happened. I turned the engine off and got out, shaking tremendously. I was absolutely amazed that I wasn’t dead. I walked around the car and was amazed that the only damage I saw was a broken antenna. I could see grass and mud wedged into the edges of the hubcaps. I couldn’t pull any of it out, it was lodged in so firmly.

It was pouring rain, so I was standing in wet grass holding an umbrella. Next I realized that there was a youngish guy walking towards me across the median. He had been driving behind me when the wipe out happened. He said it was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. For him, it all happened in slow motion (not so for me!). He seemed certain that I was airborne, about a foot off the ground, at one point. He agreed that it was surprising that I didn’t flip over. He also kept saying things like “I thought you were done for,” “You are the luckiest person in the world,” “Your angels were really looking out for you” and “You should go to church tomorrow.” He also pointed out the assorted things (signs, trees) that I very nearly impacted. His intention was to be a Good Samaritan, making sure I was okay, waiting with me until the police arrived. And he did call the police for me, which was good. But I think he also made me more stressed out.

The GS noticed that my front passenger tire was leaking out the edge of the hubcap (there was bubbling in the mud), so I knew that I at least had a flat tire in addition to the broken antenna on the opposite corner of the car. Next he pointed out that the rear passenger side tire was pointing slightly inwards. Not good. The GS asked if my insurance company covered towing and flat repair. I didn’t remember, so I tried calling them. That took a while, getting through their phone system. Turned out I don’t have Roadside Assistance, but they offered to hook me up with a tow truck anyway. The tow truck company demanded my credit card information in advance, and said it would take 45 minutes for the truck to arrive.

In the meantime, the GS and maybe someone else had called the police. They took 45 minutes to show up. Three cars total eventually arrived. The first trooper greeted me by asking “How are you doing?” I was tempted to be snarky, but kept my response to “I’ve been better.” Eventually he asked me if I was injured. When a different officer gave me the accident report number and a verbal warning to not speed again, I nearly lost it when I assured him that there was absolutely no need to warn me, I would be the slowest driver on the road for a long time. After the other two state trooper cars arrived, one of them directed me to drive my car over to the end of the median, alongside 91, to make it easier for the tow truck. The car handled very well, all things considered. I later learned that both passenger side tires were flat and the rear suspension is messed up.

An hour after the accident occurred, a tow truck showed up. The driver told me to go get in the cab, and he loaded my car onto the bed. When he asked me where I wanted to go, I explained that I had no idea where to go. After some discussion (it was like a bad date), I agreed to go back to his place. Back at his place, he gave me the spiel about why I should let his auto body company do the repair work on my car. He dropped me off at Dunkin Donuts, where I drank a hot chocolate and waited for my dad to come get me. There was no way I was going to drive a rental car that night. In fact, while I was waiting for the tow truck, I was thinking seriously about giving up driving entirely.

While I was riding in the tow truck, I got a phone call from the tow truck driver summoned by my insurance company—he couldn’t find me. I told him I had already been picked up, and he told me I had better call in to cancel my tow request. This was more than an hour after I had called the insurance company. So much for them. The tow truck that did get me must have been summoned by the police.

I eventually got home five hours after the accident. I almost started crying, I was so happy to be home and to not be dead. When my neighbors started making noise, I thought it was a wonderful sound, instead of being annoyed. I took a hot bath, after which I was finally relaxed enough to realize that I was starving—it had been 11 hours since I had eaten lunch.

When I woke up this morning, I was fine until I remembered that I had almost died, and then I was shaky again for a few hours. I’m wondering why I haven’t broken down in tears. I cried right away when my car got hit back in April. I almost cried a few times last night on the median, but stopped almost as soon as I started. I can only assume that I was “coping” very well. I’ve been in a few high-stress emergency situations, and every time I go into fully-functional mode, suppressing emotion, becoming highly efficient and focused on making everything okay. I’m wondering if that’s why I didn’t cry last night, because I was holding myself together to get through the crisis efficiently. More importantly, I’m wondering if I’m still doing that, if I’m stuck in that mode, if I’ve got a major melt-down crying fit on the horizon.