Day Two - 10 minutes - Crash
Crash
I don't think about it very often. No nightmares. Just a memory that sometimes surfaces. The Ford station wagon. My mom driving. I was in the passenger seat on the right. Not sure which brother was next to me. Pennsylvania Turnpike. Watching the white wooden guard rail. Trees. A curving road. It seemed to twist and turn forever. Looking at the map we could see that Pennsylvania was a wide state. I got bored and decided to play my guitar. I can't remember if I was holding it or playing. I remember hearing the turn signal. Instinctively turning my head to check the left lane. A habit. Something I still do. It's instinctive. Does it come from that day? No car in sight. Mom started to switch lanes. A flash. A whoosh. A crash. Soaring through the air. The car somersaulting once. Twice. Me yelling to everyone to bend over and cover their head. Somersault three ending with a crash. Landing upside down. I don't remember which door worked. I think mine was stuck. We crawled out. There was blood on my head. From my guitar.
We survived. Everything in the car survived. We were dazed. Random people watched from the highway. Rescue workers came down and got us. Police, EMT's, I don't know. An ambulance, siren screeching. A hospital. Police interviewing my mother. A hotel room. The next day my grandfather arrived in his car. And made my mother drive us the rest of the way to New York. She screamed at him. He yelled at her. It went on and on until she climbed into the car and silently drove us. Trembling.
EDITED (not timed).I only edited the one thing I got wrong and added some detail I didn't have time for in ten minutes.
Crash
I don't think about it very often. No nightmares. Just a memory that sometimes surfaces. The Ford station wagon. My mom driving. I was in the passenger seat on the right. Not sure which brother was next to me. Pennsylvania Turnpike. Watching the white wooden guard rail. Trees. A curving road. It seemed to twist and turn forever. Looking at the map we could see that Pennsylvania was a wide state. I got bored and decided to play my guitar. I can't remember if I was holding it or playing. I remember hearing the turn signal. Instinctively turning my head to check the left lane. A habit. Something I still do. It's instinctive. Does it come from that day?
No car in sight. Mom started to switch lanes. A flash. Feeling the pull of the brakes. Being jerked against my seatbelt. A whoosh. Soaring through the air. The car somersaulting , sideways, once. Twice. Me yelling to everyone to bend over and cover their head. Somersault three ending in the air with a crash. The car falling to the ground. Landing upside down. I don't remember which door worked. I think mine was stuck. We crawled out. There was blood on my head. From my guitar.
We survived. Everything in the car survived. We were dazed. Random people watched from the highway as rescue workers came down and walked us up the hill. Police, EMT's, I don't know. Witnesses saying the other car came out of nowhere. Didn't stop. An ambulance, siren screeching. A hospital. Stitches above my eye. Police interviewing my mother. A hotel room. The next day my grandfather arrived in his car. And made my mother drive us the rest of the way to New York. She screamed at him. He yelled at her. It went on and on until she climbed into the car and silently drove us. Trembling.
Later, we saw the small newspaper article in the local paper, declaring my mother's negligence. Adding insult to injury. Circa 1968, a mother driving her children alone cross country. Who do you think they would blame?
