I glanced at the clock as I slowed and put on my left turn signal; 9:17. Not as early as I'd hoped, but I'd still get into work at a decent enough hour. Certainly earlier then the previous few mornings. Scanning down the road at all of the oncoming traffic, I stop the car and comment "Juliette, look at how many cars there are! We are going to have to wait a l..." All of a sudden I hear the sickening sound of metal crushing metal and, a fraction of a second later, feel the force of an impact sending our car forward. I richochet back and forth (and vaguely recall swearing,). As we come to a sudden and silent stop I look in the rearview mirror first to see the girls- who seemed OK, and then to see what was behind me. It was a big black truck of some kind.
My heart was pounding, a thousand thoughts were racing through my head. I was in the middle of a busy main road during the morning rush. I decide to make my turn and pull over on the side road, to get my daughters and my car safely out of the way of traffic. After doing that, I put the car in park, and get out to check on the girls. They look at me, wide eyed and silent. I reassure them that everythng is OK and then turn my attention to the car that I was relieved to see had pulled in behind me; it was a newish looking black Ford F150 pickup truck, and an older gray haired man was climbing out of the driver seat. "Are you OK?" I called out. He nodded yes, so I turned back to the girls, at which point Cosette started crying.
Unbuckling her, I cradled her in my arms and patted her down, searching for I don't know what. I didn't find anything, and she seemed OK, so I tried to put her down so I could assess the damage. She refused to let go, and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulled her self tightly to me; so I carried her with me to examine the rear of my Lexus. Expecting the worst, I was shocked when all I saw were some minor looking scrapes and a small dent in the muffler. The pick up truck was in far worse shape; it was dented and the bumper was falling off.
"Wow." I said to the man. He just replied "Yeah." I looked to him. "So, do you want to call the police?" He replied "Whatever you want." Something seemed odd. Was he cross eyed? I walk around my car to get to my cell phone and hear Juliette, who is dismayed at being left alone in the car, calling for me. I unbuckle her as I call Greg to find out what to do. He tells me to call the police, and after some convincing agrees to come to get the girls and deliver them to daycare, which is only half a block away.
I call 911 and request an officer; then the girls and I settle in to wait. They are a little bit scared, but when I let them crawl around in the front seat of the car and push buttons and raid my bags they are happy again. Especially Cosette, who has found my gum and is happily chewing through piece after piece.
So we wait. And wait. I decide to get out and take some photos, happy that this time I did buy the camera phone. As I'm shooting a video- because for some reason my camera phone always sets itself to video itsead of photo- I hear a voice asking "What are you doing?" I jump and turn around and see that the police officer has arrived.
Shortly after, Greg arrives, and he walks the girls down the road to daycare while I finish up with the police man. By the time I finally get to the girls day care to bring them their lunch and give them a big hug, my knees are feeling shaky, but a hug from Cosette's teacher helps and another hug from Cosette and then from Juliette really makes me feel better.
We are all OK. If I had been in a different car, and my bumper didn't line up with that Ford's bumper, I know it would have been a lot worse. I mean- I didn't even hear squealing brakes- that guy didn't slow down before he rammed into us. He was probably going 35 or 40 mph. Isn't that the speed they test those car seats out at? We were sent hurtling forward at a pretty high force, although not enough to deflate any air bags, thank goodness. When I call the pediatrician, they tell me that if the girls seem OK then just to keep an eye on them but no need to bring them in; they ask how I am doing and tell me that, if the girls were secured in their car seats, then I am the one who was most at risk of injury.
Since then I have been even more careful to make sure that the buckles are tight enough, the straps aren't twisted, and the girls are secure. Because it could have been worse. Because you never know.
The next night as I am driving to pick up Cosette I am wating for my automatic headlights to switch on, cursing the inefficiency of my stupid Lexus, until I realize that Cosette had turned them off. Along with my automatic windshield wipers.
Thursday as the girls and I retrace our route for the first time since the accident, Juliette asks me "Mom, can we crash into the truck again? That was exciting."
I guess if that is all that we come away with- a little excitement- then we are very fortunate.
