The anvil falls

That entry pushing Sean's novel was very nearly the last one I ever wrote.

Before I begin, I'll spare you the unpleasant kind of suspense and say that I'm alive (obviously) and unhurt (as confirmed by four hours worth of poking, prodding, and X-Rays).

Yesterday I drove to Santa Clarita for a day job sales visit. While driving back, southbound in the middle land on the 405 freeway, a red pick-up truck attempted to move into my lane on top of me. I must have been in its blind spot. I swerved into the empty right lane, but went too fast. The car started fishtailing out of control.

I've had the experience before, in dangerous situations which, in retrospect, were not half as close calls as this one, of having time seem to slow down. Time did not seem to slow down this time. Everything seemed to be happening incredibly fast, which is how it actually was happening. I struggled with the car, trying to wrestle it on to the shoulder, but I could tell that it was stronger than I was. It was like riding a runaway horse. It skidded on to the shoulder, hit the curb, and flew off the freeway. Branches slammed into the windshield, the car turned upside down in the air, the roof hit the ground, and the car flipped over again and came down embedded in a thicket of shrubs and little trees. Rosanne Cash's "10 Song Demo" was still playing.

I've been trying to remember exactly what I was thinking when the car went airborn. I remember that up until that point I was concentrating on trying to get it back under control. I guess I must have been frightened, but I don't remember feeling anything exactly like what I usually know as fear. I don't remember thinking that I was going to die or might die, either. All I recall in terms of conscious thought was something like, "Oh my God, my car's rolling, there's going to be a hell of a crash."

When the car landed, both my knees banged into the front. I had my left arm and hand braced against the roof and my right on the steering wheel. I decided not to try to move in case I had back or neck injuries, especially since, I figured, paramedics should be there any moment. After a minute or so, I turned off the ignition and put the car in park. The car was buried in shrubbery and I couldn't see the freeway out the back window, which was shattered. When no one showed up after another minute, I decided to call 911 on my cell phone. The phone was in my purse, which had rolled forward in front of the passenger seat. I couldn't reach it without unbuckling my seatbelt (I was wearing both lap and shoulder belts) but by then I was pretty sure I hadn't broken my neck. I unsnapped it and leaned forward. The car was so crushed that it was hard to maneuver.

Someone yelled, "Hey! Are you all right?" Two thirtysomething black guys were struggling through the bushes to my car. I said I thought so, and asked them if an ambulance had arrived. When they said no I decided to get out of the car. I handed them my purse and gym bag with my gi and brown belt, and they helped me climb out the rear window and get back to the shoulder. The car was fifty feet or so off the freeway, and completely demolished. About the only parts that weren't destroyed were the seats. Oddly, neither the side nor front airbags deployed, even though there were both side and front impacts.

Another car had also pulled over, this one with a grandmotherly black lady and two boys, a teenager and a little kid. She had seen the whole thing and was amazed that I was alive, let alone walking on my own power. Unfortunately, she said the truck had started to slow, then thought better of it and speeded up. Also unfortunately, I forgot to ask any of the witnesses to stick around once the firefighters and cops showed up, or to get their names and numbers. I just thanked them and told them I was in good hands now. (I also informed her little boy that he should always think of me and remember to wear his seatbelt.)

After listening to the cops, firefighters, and EMTs say, "You _walked_ out of _that_? That's a miracle/You should be dead/man, you are one tough cookie/I guess if it's not your time, it's not your time," I decided to take their advice and go to the hospital. Four boring hours and many repetitions of what happened (mine) and statements that I was incredibly lucky (theirs) I got a ride back home.

Where I discovered that (I'm going to be vague here on the off-chance that there's legal stuff involved) due to paperwork issues, ownership of car issues, and my own carelessness, this will not be covered by insurance and I am going to have to personally cough up the price of a new Honda Civic. At that point I gave myself the injury which hurts most this morning, a huge bruise on my hand where I slammed it into the wall.

However, on morning's reflection, that sucks but it's not like it's going to drive me into bankruptcy or anything. (I'll just cross my fingers extra hard that someone options my book.) And if I'd shattered my knee instead of just bruising it, I would have gladly paid everything I had to put it back together again. Never mind what I'd have paid, if I could, for my life.

The funny thing is, what this brought home to me-- that we're all living on the volcano's edge, and that we should treasure every single breath because you just never know which will be your last-- are lessons that I already know. That I live by and I've known for years. I already understand on a personal gut level how precious and fragile life is. I already treasure every breath.

But it was nice to hear from a couple of friends last night how much they would have missed me.