Journal Entry: October 19th, 2015

It’s Only a Speed Bump in My Journey – Part II


…Continued from Part I

An hour later we headed home, this time he was behind the wheel. We got off the freeway, and maneuvered through the beautiful residential neighborhoods winding back to our house when it happened very quickly and with no warning at all. Just 1.5 miles from home one of the tires blew and the car just started spinning out of control. I only had time to think “he’s not pulling out of this spin; we going to crash,” and then “we are going through those bushes to crash and his my new car is going to be broken.”

The car mowed through the tall, thick bushes, the branches scratched the side of metal, the leaves rustling against the heavy object barreling through its core. Then the long screech of metal on metal, the visual of a chain link fence coming towards me, and my door caved in. The splintering as the windshield shattered inwards near my face. A loud crack, like a bat hitting a baseball, of the car hitting a giant tree. Layers of sounds: plastic, steam, creaking, doors slam to homes, voices yelling in panic, “get out of the car!” I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breath.

The seat belt. Release it to breath. My chest desperately tried to gasp in air. I finally found the button and pressed it. My lungs painfully filled up with air, tears streamed down my face, hands shaking as I started checking my different body parts. A few exterior scratches, thank you God, for protecting me. I tried to adjust my legs, my hips. Excruciating pain and my body’s unwillingness to budge a centimeter. Something’s wrong, but I’m alive. Thank you, God.

More voices urging us to get out of the car, but they couldn’t move me. Sirens in the distance. I couldn’t get the taste of dirt out of my mouth. I was covered in soil, branches, and glass. Someone gave me a bottle of water so that I could rinse the dirt out of my mouth.

Lights flashing, firemen appeared at the passenger side of the car shining bright beams from flashlights into my pupils, asking me how many fingers they were holding up, to follow their movement. The fireman reached in and picked me up, carrying me to the sidewalk setting me down gently as he returned to contain any fire on the scene.

I must admit that being rescued and carried by a fireman was a bucket list item I checked off at that moment.

To Be Continued in Part III…

The aftermath: what's left of the Corvette shows where I had sat in the passenger seat at the time of the accident.

The aftermath: what’s left of the Corvette shows where I had sat in the passenger seat at the time of the accident.