At Least It Wasn’t My Birthday!

Just a mile and a quarter from my exit, the traffic on the expressway came to a halt. “Rush hour,” I said to myself. “I wonder how long I’ll sit here?” Moments later I heard the screeching of tires. It my rear view mirror I saw a black car sitting behind me and behind it a green car sliding and fish-tailing at a high speed toward us. I braced myself for the impact.

As if in slow motion, I saw the green car hit the black car and the black car hit my Honda CRV, which I thought was going to be pushed into the van in front of me. Thankfully, it wasn’t: my car came to s stop inches from the van’s read bumper.

After a few moments of sitting and making sure that I wasn’t hurt, I got out of my car. A quick inspection of the rear of my Honda indicated that black car’s front hood was bent and pressed against my rear-mounted spare tire, which appeared to be deflated. The front bumper of the black car was beneath the rear bumper of my CRV.

The young man driving the green car was walking toward me and asking if I were hurt. I told him that I didn’t think so and asked if he was injured. He replied he wasn’t and we both walked up to the driver’s side the black car that was in between our cars and asked the same question of the man who was unbuckling his seatbelt. He, too, said he was OK and I said a silent prayer of thanks.

It was about then that I noticed the ambulance with flashing lights behind the green car. The EMS man was walking toward us and asked the same question we had just asked one another. He then informed us that he had radioed the police and that an officer was on the way.

I spent the next fifteen or so minutes talking with the driver of the green car. He was upset, not only because he had caused the accident, but because today was his birthday and he was on his way to the University of Louisville where he is a leader of a Christian students group.

Then, because of the chilling wind, I returned to my car and waited—forty-five minutes I waited. When the police officer finally arrived, he apologized and said that he had been given an erroneous location for the accident. Twenty minutes later he handed me back my driver’s license, car registration, proof of insurance, and a card listing the accident report number and how to obtain a copy of the report. He said that I could go, but to pull away slowing in case the black car’s bumper was attached to my car.

It wasn’t and I was on my way, thankful that no one was hurt and that the only damage to my car was a punctured spare tire. I adjusted that last evaluation when I stopped and heard rattling coming from the rear of my car. An inspection indicated that the exhaust system is loose—not a major problem, but another inconvenience.

Like the young man whose green car hit the black car that hit my green CRV, my plans for the afternoon were shot. At least it wasn’t my birthday!