Rear-Ended Indeed
In the last 7 years, I have been hit three times in my car by others who were being negligent and careless drivers. Another time, I hit a deer. I am not sure I can pin that collision on the deer as I was going a little faster that I should have been on a back country road up to work in the middle of what is functionally a "Deer Preserve" (a lot of woods, farms, and "no hunting signs" posted everywhere. A perfect storm for automotive and deer collisions). Fan-tas-tic...I found that the deer was not insured.
The first accident of the three, a red Firebird went through a red light in Lancaster, smashed into my car, a fled the scene of the accident. Nice. The Lancaster Police took over an hour two show up...by that time the driver of the red Firebird had probably finished consuming his second six pack in his trailer down in Solanco.
The second time was last year when a young man was going much too fast (I saw him in my rear view mirror catching up to me as a cheetah to a water buffalo...me (the W.B) going the speed limit I might add) and I tried to pull over to let him pass (I often just pull over rather than get in a protracted and tension-filled drive where someone is stuck to my bumper like a magnet to a fridge). Well, he smacked into my left back side--thereby proving that he was much too close.
I kind of sensed in the weeks before that an accident was coming. It is was like a premonition; new car, all shiny and fresh with that new car smell. "Bam"...now just another used car. Like a 15 year old girl, the morning after "a first time" hit and run with some teen boy who doesn't even remember her name the next day. I felt so...abused.
The third accident was two nights ago, Thursday night. I was working late (again) on a College Preparation Guide for our high school students. The only time when I can work on it is after school lets out. The school day is much too hectic to sit down and focus on one thing for any more than a couple of minutes. Occupationally induced ADD. So, I was already feeling like I was out on the second mile and exhausted by it, when this Jeep rammed into me. But, he had been hit from the behind by an SUV, who herself, had been hit by a young man going forty miles an hour on a rain slicked road (who apparently was fishing around for a CD). The two major menaces on the roads today? Old and slow senile men, young and fast virile men.
It was good that the SUV was the first in line of the automotive dominoes. It kind of absorbed the trauma and force of the crash...sort of a car Christ-figure. Her air bags went off and she bit her lip. The kid's car that hit her was smashed in like a soda can stomped by a foot--and his air bag probably saved his life or kept him from encounter his car's windshield in a profoundly intimate manner. The dude's Jeep who hit me was drivable--obviously the first two car's in line were not--but his car seat was on this 45 degree angle, which caused his chin to practically sit on the steering wheel making him look like an old lady with stubble. My car has a cracked bumper. That's it...that's enough for me.
Well, I got out of the car and screamed my favorite expletive starting with a "F." I must of pretty much looked like a stark-raving mad 6' 8" loony in a dress shirt, tie, and top coat. That caused the offending young man, about a 100 feet away from me, to look even more concerned. He was calling 911 to get the police at the scene of the accident, probably partially because he thought he might need some police protection from me.
It took the police 10-15 minutes to arrive...that was kind of funny due to the police station being within 100 yards of the scene of the accident. Kind of like when someone is wearing glasses and then asks you if you have seen his glasses. My dad used to do this when I was a kid and I had to do my best to suppress my smirky smart-pants-ness and reply respectfully, "They are on your nose, father."
In life, I have a difficult time taking punishment even when I richly have earned the right for a whupping. When a boy, I would try every OJ-like defense to get out of the way of the swinging hairbrush that would only come to a halt after transferring its potential energy to my arse. That disciplinary deposit by my dad to my derriere caused an explosion of wailing and tears out of my eyes and mouth as the force of the blow left me. Yet, I be strangely at peace and calm after it had done its work. I had paid for my crime, the slate was clean. Until a couple of days later, when I had to be remediated.
But, getting "hit" by life's automotive (or otherwise) hairbrush in an undeserved manner sets me off probably as much as anything I can think of...if I am in the wrong, give me points, hike my insurance rates, call me a bad boy...throw in a night stick to the cranium. All deserved. Hit my car when I am not in the wrong...get ready for some fury. I'll give you a CD...a Compact Decerbration (I found this in the dictionary! Needed to locate a "D" word that fit the gist) performed by yours truly with my blunt instrument fist of wrath.
After I cooled down a bit (an hour later) when we were all in the "poor suckers" room at the police station , I told the offending young man--"keep your head up" as in don't beat yourself up too bad (but) also keep your head up while driving, man. Don't be a dumb-ass and make others to take your "dumb-assed-ness" on our rear ends. And, Lord make me more like Christ, who took my crash on His body. "He shall bruise your heal, you shall crush his head."
The first accident of the three, a red Firebird went through a red light in Lancaster, smashed into my car, a fled the scene of the accident. Nice. The Lancaster Police took over an hour two show up...by that time the driver of the red Firebird had probably finished consuming his second six pack in his trailer down in Solanco.
The second time was last year when a young man was going much too fast (I saw him in my rear view mirror catching up to me as a cheetah to a water buffalo...me (the W.B) going the speed limit I might add) and I tried to pull over to let him pass (I often just pull over rather than get in a protracted and tension-filled drive where someone is stuck to my bumper like a magnet to a fridge). Well, he smacked into my left back side--thereby proving that he was much too close.
I kind of sensed in the weeks before that an accident was coming. It is was like a premonition; new car, all shiny and fresh with that new car smell. "Bam"...now just another used car. Like a 15 year old girl, the morning after "a first time" hit and run with some teen boy who doesn't even remember her name the next day. I felt so...abused.
The third accident was two nights ago, Thursday night. I was working late (again) on a College Preparation Guide for our high school students. The only time when I can work on it is after school lets out. The school day is much too hectic to sit down and focus on one thing for any more than a couple of minutes. Occupationally induced ADD. So, I was already feeling like I was out on the second mile and exhausted by it, when this Jeep rammed into me. But, he had been hit from the behind by an SUV, who herself, had been hit by a young man going forty miles an hour on a rain slicked road (who apparently was fishing around for a CD). The two major menaces on the roads today? Old and slow senile men, young and fast virile men.
It was good that the SUV was the first in line of the automotive dominoes. It kind of absorbed the trauma and force of the crash...sort of a car Christ-figure. Her air bags went off and she bit her lip. The kid's car that hit her was smashed in like a soda can stomped by a foot--and his air bag probably saved his life or kept him from encounter his car's windshield in a profoundly intimate manner. The dude's Jeep who hit me was drivable--obviously the first two car's in line were not--but his car seat was on this 45 degree angle, which caused his chin to practically sit on the steering wheel making him look like an old lady with stubble. My car has a cracked bumper. That's it...that's enough for me.
Well, I got out of the car and screamed my favorite expletive starting with a "F." I must of pretty much looked like a stark-raving mad 6' 8" loony in a dress shirt, tie, and top coat. That caused the offending young man, about a 100 feet away from me, to look even more concerned. He was calling 911 to get the police at the scene of the accident, probably partially because he thought he might need some police protection from me.
It took the police 10-15 minutes to arrive...that was kind of funny due to the police station being within 100 yards of the scene of the accident. Kind of like when someone is wearing glasses and then asks you if you have seen his glasses. My dad used to do this when I was a kid and I had to do my best to suppress my smirky smart-pants-ness and reply respectfully, "They are on your nose, father."
In life, I have a difficult time taking punishment even when I richly have earned the right for a whupping. When a boy, I would try every OJ-like defense to get out of the way of the swinging hairbrush that would only come to a halt after transferring its potential energy to my arse. That disciplinary deposit by my dad to my derriere caused an explosion of wailing and tears out of my eyes and mouth as the force of the blow left me. Yet, I be strangely at peace and calm after it had done its work. I had paid for my crime, the slate was clean. Until a couple of days later, when I had to be remediated.
But, getting "hit" by life's automotive (or otherwise) hairbrush in an undeserved manner sets me off probably as much as anything I can think of...if I am in the wrong, give me points, hike my insurance rates, call me a bad boy...throw in a night stick to the cranium. All deserved. Hit my car when I am not in the wrong...get ready for some fury. I'll give you a CD...a Compact Decerbration (I found this in the dictionary! Needed to locate a "D" word that fit the gist) performed by yours truly with my blunt instrument fist of wrath.
After I cooled down a bit (an hour later) when we were all in the "poor suckers" room at the police station , I told the offending young man--"keep your head up" as in don't beat yourself up too bad (but) also keep your head up while driving, man. Don't be a dumb-ass and make others to take your "dumb-assed-ness" on our rear ends. And, Lord make me more like Christ, who took my crash on His body. "He shall bruise your heal, you shall crush his head."
Comments