Three Seconds

He's going to hit me. If I try to maneuver maybe-

Bang!

One One-Thousand.

The sound of a scream came from somewhere. I realized it was me. I shrink in my seat, recoiling from the impact. The side airbag deployed, grazing the left of my face and shoulder. I barely registered it. Somehow my right hand wasn't on the steering wheel. "I need two hands, two hands on the steering wheel. Steer!" Things were freewheeling now. I'm not in control. What's next?

Two One-Thousand.

Look left, the airbag was there. Look forward, but my focus was blurred. I could only see on what was happening inside the car. "Pump the brake, pump the brake, pump the brake!" I hit the curb that bounced me up and over the island.

Three One-Thousand.

"Pump the brake!" I came off the island into the right turn lane, no one was there. The car stopped. I braced for another possible hit. Nothing.

I waz vibrating at a higher frequency. Trembling. I took stock, my right hand was hurting. Checked my left side, I barely registered the airbag touching me, but did any other part of the car? There's no glass, no blood, no pain, other than my hand. No idea how I hurt it.

Phone.

I needed to find my phone! Using my left hand I started rummaging through my jacket piled on the passenger seat.

"Please hold while we dial 911." Huh, I didn't know my car calls for me. Cool.

"Graham, I have to call Graham."

The ambulance came. I crawled out of the car through the passenger side. I didn't look back. I didn't want to see. I didn't want to know. It just wasn't important. I held my injured hand close.

But I walked away.

I saw the car later that day. All but kissed the hood, "thanks for keeping me safe." It's a goner now. Brand new, only had it 9 months, but that doesn't matter now.

We drove past that intersection on the way home. On purpose. Graham asked if we should avoid it but I said, "no, I'll show you." But it was really for me. Now I had to see. Now I had to know.

From the middle lane I'd been pushed past the right lane. Narrowly missing poles and signs on the pedestrian island as I drove over it, passing through the perfect window fit for a vehicle. I had stopped short of another pole on the other side of the right hand turn lane.

There were no pedestrians to hit. No other cars to collide with. It was all so close. Had it not been for the fluke injury to my right hand, I would have walked out of there scot-free. I was lucky.

Those three seconds have replayed themselves in my head over and over. I drove the next day knowing there was nothing I could have done differently. I drove the next day, as no way could I have prevented the tragedy to my car. Yet still, I was hyper-alert, wondering if the next car to come to close or stop too short was next. Only 24 hrs before, the privacy of space inside my car had been violated.

My safety of self had been violated. But none of that is relevant.

I am not responsible.

I am not a victim either.