Car Crash
It’s been an interesting half-week, to say the least.
Jessica and I were down in Chino Hills for my sister’s graduation. At 11:08 PM, we were heading north on the 210, doing 70 in the carpool lane. There’s a section of the freeway, right near the Miller plant, where it pulls hard to the left, causing the center divider to block the view of the left lane more than a fistful of meters ahead. As we came around this bend, my eyes focused on two thin slits of orange. A couple seconds later, my brain finally realized what I was looking at. There was a car facing us in our lane with its headlights off.
I immediately pulled hard to the right. The front-left portion of my truck connected with the front-left corner of the backwards car. The airbags deployed, and Jessica’s half-full Chik-fil-A cup exploded. Jessica screamed as we flew past the other car, scraping sides along the way. I struggled to regain control of the truck, turning the steering wheel in response to the movements of the truck, but when the front wheels finally regained traction against the road, we pulled hard to the left, smashing straight back into the center divider.
There was a moment where nothing moved. I was stunned. The CD player, having skipped as a result of the collision, came back on, jolting me from my daze. I turned the volume down and asked Jessica if she was alright, to which she replied, “My leg hurts.” It was then that I really became conscious of the smoke. As a result of the airbags deploying, the cab was filled with thick, white, putrid-smelling smoke. I suppose it’s a human survival instinct, but the only thing I wanted to do was get away from it. I tried to open my door, but it was stuck.
Swiveling in my seat, I was able to kick it open with my left leg. As I was about to slide out of the truck, I realized that the engine was still running. I reached around the steering wheel, and pulled the key out, killing the engine.
Standing outside, the first thing that I noticed was a big chunk of my chrome rim laying next to the center divider. Glancing over at the front left tire, I found that it had shattered into three or four pieces. The tire was flat, limply draped over what was left. The truck itself had come to rest with the back end in the carpool lane, and the nose sticking out into the next lane over. Turning back to the truck, I encouraged Jessica to hurry out of the cab. She was fishing around on the floor for her shoes, as she had taken them off earlier. She slid out of the truck and wrapped her arms around me. We checked ourselves for injuries; Jessica’s leg was throbbing, but I was fine, aside from a bump on my arm where I had hit the steering wheel.
I’m not sure why my first instinct wasn’t to call 911. I instead called my mother. Several seconds into dialing, I remembered that she had taken my younger sister to a movie, and probably wouldn’t pick up. I canceled the call and dialed my dad. He picked up, and I began telling him what had happened. As I was talking to him, I left Jessica sitting on the center divider and went back to the open truck door to try to make sense of the mess inside. Suddenly, I heard screeching tires, and Jessica began screaming bloody murder. In another half-second, my phone was wrenched from my hand and my world was spinning inside-out.
What had happened was this: A second car had come around the very same bend I did, and swerved hard in an attempt to miss colliding with the first car. It smashed into a third car in the next lane over, and ended up being launched into the air. Jessica had looked up just in time to see the vehicle, turning over in the air, falling straight at us.
Jessica launched herself over the center divider, into the southbound carpool lane, to avoid being crushed. The car flew into the back of my truck, shattering the rear axle (that’s hardened steel), launching the whole truck forward, and tossing me into the air like a rag doll. Jessica turned back around to see me on the ground, and burst out into tears, fearing that I had just died.
I was only out of it for a couple seconds. I immediately jumped back up, and ran over to Jessica. It was then that I realized that I had been injured much more in the second crash than in the first one. My left knee felt like it was bleeding (though I couldn’t really tell through my jeans), both my arms felt bruised and pulled, and it felt as if I had been sucker punched in the stomach.
It wasn’t until I looked over and saw the upside-down car behind my truck that I started to realize what had happened. I let go of Jessica and ran over to the car just as the driver was opening his door. I helped both him and the passenger out of the car and asked if they were alright. Surprisingly, no one seemed to be badly injured.
It was then that I realized that I had been on the phone, mid-sentence, with my dad when the second car hit the truck. I told Jessica to call 911 and I began searching the ground where I had landed, and after a few seconds, located my phone. The screen was cracked and the case was more beat up than it had been , but it was still working. I called my dad back, let him know where we were, and he started on his way to find us.
Within a few minutes, the emergency lights were visible heading our way. Suddenly the scene was swarming with at least a dozen firemen, half a dozen paramedics, and six or seven police officers. The freeway got shut down immediately. Everyone was asked if they wanted to go the hospital, but no one did. It was minor scrapes and bruises all around.
The tow trucks arrived within ten or fifteen minutes. My truck, with the front left wheel gone and the rear axle in multiple pieces, had to be dragged off the freeway. It was a sad moment. That truck and I had been through a lot together. Hauling film equipment hundreds of miles, taking girls on dates, week-long road trips. I realize that it’s only a truck, but as Serrita put it afterward: “It fit you so well.” That truck and I were a team. And I was robbed of my partner by some idiot who couldn’t drive and thought it would be a terribly wonderful idea to drive without his lights on.
I do understand, though, that it’s better that there’s one less vehicle in existence than one less human in existence. And I’m still here. Life’s going to have to try a little harder than that to get rid of me just yet. I’m not done here.
