My 1st car, the little blue Neon, came to a violent and quick end. On my way to work, I turned left crossing what I thought to be two very open lanes of traffic. Apparently, there was a van in the outside lane (hidden by a large truck in the other lane, trying to turn left at the same time) that ran right into the passenger side of my car, spinning me completely the other direction. It's the most violent wreck I've been in.
Some guy who saw the whole thing was talking to me through my widow asking if I was alright and telling me that he was calling 911. At this point, I'm still processing where I was and if I'm alive. Once I determined that I was alive and wasn't bleeding out of my ears or anything, I decide to get out of the car. This involves me crawling over the driver seat to exit out the bent up passenger door. (I would've been stepping out onto oncoming traffic if I would've opened my door.)
As soon as I get out, I meet the driver of the van. He's from some other state, up here visiting. He immediately tells me that he was just trying to get to the "harbor" (no one up here calls the lake shore the harbor) to enjoy a day on the boat. "Well, gosh. I'm so sorry to have held you up, "I think. The very next thing he tells me is that he was in that lane the whole time and was "almost completely stopped" before hitting me. Seriously?? I'm just getting my head cleared after him totaling my car and I have to listen to him talk to me like this? Not to mention that I'm pretty sure if he were "almost stopped" he wouldn't have spun me around the other direction and practically tore my tire right off the axle.
I don't know what to say to him. I know what I want to say to him. But I somehow manage to use higher reasoning, and after glancing over to his perfectly drivable van, just walk away.
Not a good Monday. After a few days and many pain-killers and muscle relaxers, I'm starting to get back into the normal life. I'm still pretty down about not having a car.
