I was in an accident on Friday. I haven’t blogged about it yet, mainly because it was the single most terrifying thing that I’ve ever had happen to me. I wasn’t injured, and neither was my car. But the man who got dragged alongside the car as the flatbed and my subaru careened down my icy road ended up with a broken leg and a whole lot of bruising.
My car wasn’t working right, and we had called a tow truck to get it over to the mechanics. I had backed it out of the driveway, and the tow truck driver had dropped down the flatbed to hook it up. While he was on his hands and knees, hooking my car to the chain, the truck started sliding. It picked up speed as it went, dragging him along. I was in my car, along for the ride as well.
The flatbed, towing my car, the poor screaming tow truck driver, and me stuck in my car, went faster and faster as it slid down my hill, finally crashing into the snowbank. And everyone survived, with nothing more permanent than a broken leg, a whole lot of bumps and bruises on the part of the the driver, and a couple of days when I couldn’t stop crying.
Because I’ll never be able to forget those few minutes. When I was trapped in a car that was sliding out of control, down a hill that ends in Rte. 9. In that moment, when I was sure that he was dying and that I was trapped, with no way out – with my kids watching out the window, when all I could think was that I couldn’t die, I had three kids, I had to escape and couldn’t – in those minutes, I was sure that he was going to die, and that I probably was too.
We’re fine. He survived, and is out of the hospital. I’m mostly okay. I cried all day Friday and a good part of Saturday, but I’m mostly okay too. I wasn’t hurt at all, I just went for a really fast ride down the hill. Trapped in a car, attached to a flatbed, hearing him scream in agony and knowing that there was no way out for either one of us.
So my kids probably won’t be going to school tomorrow. Maybe Wednesday. But we’ve got another storm today, another one on tap for Thursday night into Friday, and I’ve heard rumors of another for Sunday. And I’m staying safe inside. With my kids. Because the hill, in Worcester, with the feet and feet of snow, and the layer of ice and mud and slush that have refrozen over and over again – I’m not taking any chances.
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