Let's Tarentino it, shall we? Where did I get that quote from? (“I'm gonna Tarentino it”...I think that was that annoying comedian no one apparently likes anymore. Dave somebody? Well, whatever, looks like -that- fifteen minutes is over.)
Jamie slams on brakes in Zyvelles. I, following him in Pepper, also slam on brakes. He hits a large log. I hit the large log. I nearly hit Jamie, I swerve around him into the oncoming lane and pull off the side of the road to the right, ahead of where he's stopped. Smoke is coming out of my hood. I sit for a second. It is nighttime on a country road and I just wrecked my car. Soon I'll get out of the car to check on Jamie, and then the friendly guy who lives at the house at the end of the driveway we pulled off at will wander up, and then the volunteer firefighters, and then the cop, and then, much much later, the tow truck. But for now I am sitting. In a few minutes a little early nineties CRX will run over the log too, but since we pretty much demolished it they'll be fine.
We had been traveling nicely along, caravaning from our house in Atlanta to my sister's house in Rock Hill, where we were kindly invited to stay for the summer. (Thanks to my brother and sister!) We'd meant to leave at noon-ish from Atlanta, so naturally we left around 6pm, having packed many of our things into Jamie's car and a huge elliptical machine in my car. Earlier in the evening before the log, there had been a terrible rainstorm (which, as you know, always gets me a little panicky—or in this case a lot panicky) in which our cars had threatened multiple times to slide away unauthorized off the road and through the brush. Forked lightning, blinding rain, little bit of buffeting wind. Great stuff. So here we were, with me super excited that there wasn't any rain, the road was dry, and I was alive, and then we run over this log lying across the road just over the crest of a hill. It was perfect placement.
Jamie had slammed on brakes, and so then I, confused, slammed on brakes, and then I saw a lot of leaves and went over the biggest speedbump I'd ever encountered.
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| About this big, I think. But that's from memory, so maybe subtract an inch from the diameter. |
At least it was only about fifteen minutes from my sister's house. Does this post lack continuity?
Damage to the cars--
Zyvelles, the Corolla that sits a couple inches higher than my car:
-four flat tires
-transmission pan and wiring
Pepper, the for-once-regrettably sporty Mazda 3:
-broken front clip (this holds up the radiator and other things we like)
-radiator
-damaged insulation under the car
-busted fog lamp
-broken headlight bulb filaments (I mean how?)
-wheel bearing (no, it was not damaged before)
-two bad tires
The only obvious stuff at the scene were Jamie's flat tires (only three were obvious) and the fact that my car, when I started it, idled at 2000RPM and then dropped to the normal 750RPM, a few seconds after which it would vibrate in a very violent way. Everyone encouraged me to drive it to the mechanic, but I refused because my car does not usually try to shake me out of the driver's seat. So then Jamie and I waited in Zyvelles trying to find a good radio station to listen to while the blue lights from the cop car gave us a headache and our anger at the delay with the tow truck grew. ("Gah! This guy had to get out of bed and come drag us to a mechanic! Why isn't he hurrying?!" He turned out to be very nice.) Later, roundabout 1:30am, my brother picked me and Jamie up from the mechanic. And then we sang “Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round” all the way home.
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| This stolen Masterfile stock photo entitled "Multi-Ethnic Children Jumping" should help describe for you how happy we all felt. |
As a social work student and psych major, whenever I'm really ticked off or unhappy, I try to think of all the things that are good about a situation, or that at the very least don't completely suck. Here are some good things about the log accident:
--Jamie and I were okay.
--Jamie's car didn't require extensive repair.
--The tow truck driver was this awesome veteran guy who drove a '93 Ford with over 300,000 miles on it.
--Everyone who worked with us was polite.
--We were only fifteen minutes from our destination.
...And so on (but let's face it, I'm ending the list because I can't think of anything else good about running over a tree.)
Jamie got his car back the next day. I got my car back a few days ago, which was I think about 27 days after the accident. The parts took a long time to order, and then the insurance company dawdled, and then there was a wheel bearing out that I had to get vicious with the insurance company to get it paid for, and then they finished it but for some reason had to wait until the next morning to take it for a test drive? So anyway, I finally have my car back. I could have hugged it. Almost did, except I'm pretty picky about fingerprints.
When I got it, I drove around and blasted music, and then I washed it and vacuumed the inside and emptied it of receipts and chip bags, and then Jamie and I replaced the headlight bulbs and Jamie polished the headlight lenses, and now it looks as good as new.
Thank goodness.
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| Pepper, post-log, representing some Ahimsa House and some Save the Manuals. |
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1. Mine.
1. Mine.
2. http://www.masterfile.com/stock-photography/image/619-01430515/Multi-ethnic-children-jumping
3. Mine.
