Impact

It was over almost before it began. Travelling up the expressway, the front left wheel buckled and twisted. The car slammed into the concrete barrier, mere inches away from my tender flesh; the only shielding a few millimetres of metal that was grinding away and some already shattered glass. My phone had gone flying from out of my pocket and was bouncing about the vehicle as my partner shrieked from the driver’s seat.

The world had slowed to a crawl. The car was almost vertical, now. A witness would later describe our car as ‘fucking flying, mate!’, and the police officer coming to the scene opened with ‘So, who’s the test pilot?’. Still shrieking, my partner attempted to wrest control of an at least partially airborne vehicle. I was calmly wondering whether we’d live or die, knowing at the least that that day I was not able to see my child. I hoped my phone would survive the bouncing, so that I’d be able to call for assistance, and let my child’s mother know what had happened. What was still happening, at that point.

The crunch of our vehicle slamming back down to the surface of the road, and Earth itself, was almost drowned out by the other cars passing, honking their horns at our near-death inconvenience of their morning journey up the hill. We continued to slide along the concrete barrier, for several more meters, before eventually coming to a halt. For the next two years that barrier would have blue paint scraped along it from our mishap.

My phone was finishing up with its final round of bouncing all over the car (always secure your devices! It can be really fucking dangerous having something even as small as a phone flying about the inside of your car at high speeds! We got lucky!) and when I bent down to pick it up, by some miracle, the screen was totally undamaged and the device was fully functional.

My partner’s panicked shriek was ending, at that stage. My heart was pounding in my ears. My collarbone was beginning to ache from where my seatbelt had yanked me back into place during the initial collision with the barrier, and I began to feel around to make sure no bones were broken.

A friendly young man, the witness described I mentioned earlier, ran up to my side (fortunately our car had landed in such a manner that we could both get out easily) and told me to stay put, an ambulance was on the way, and would I like a cigarette? He had been following our car and seen the entire thing, he was telling me, as another person approached from the other side of the concrete barrier. An older gentleman on a bicycle.

A crowd began to arrive, all people that had been following, seen the crash and wanted to either help, or more likely gawk so they could gossip to their friends later, as the newcomer was beginning to berate me and the friendly young man. He was complaining about all the broken glass on his side of the barrier, as though it had been there for months and was not a recent addition.

As the time ticked over to the next minute, the young man could be heard saying “Are you fucking joking, mate? These two people nearly just fucking died here and you’re worried about a bit of broken fucking glass?” all while trying to make sure I stayed put, fearing that I had broken bones because I was still feeling my collarbone for possible damage. It was one hell of a way to start a weekend!

Sometimes a lot can happen in a really short amount of time.