Car Crash II

Illuminate (this blog's author) has a bit of experience with car crashes. Illuminate was the passenger in a hell of a motor vehicle accident. About twenty years back, Illuminate had a grandmother on her deathbed in Nashville's Catholic hospital. Illuminate had a friend in graduate school (he is now an instructor of mathematics at the college level). This fellow thought Illuminate was becoming morose and needed to leave the infirmary for a while. He picked Illuminate up in a Volkswagen Jetta that was probably four years old at that time. We dined at a nearby roadhouse-style steakhouse (the kind with peanut shells on the floor). Both of us were flirting with the waitress who said she was an undergrad at a nearby Baptist school that recently gained some notoriety hosting an Obama-McCain debate. She was an animal lover, and I mentioned I had a flat-coated Retriever during our meal. Well, little miss coed followed us out with a bag of meat scraps for my dog. My friend and I were mortified as I was having trouble buckling the unfamiliar seat belt and Mike was helping me buckle in. To someone approaching the car from behind, it must have looked with Mike's head down intently and his hands busily at work that we were committing an overt obscenity. That is certainly what the waitress must have thought when she dropped the meat and sprinted back toward the restaurant. I caught up to her with an explanation as she reached the door. I don't think she bought it-though it was the truth. Well, Mike buckled me back in to the harness that was so different than my Jeep's. This was fortuitous as Mike thought I needed more morale boost and was driving us to a late night movie. On the journey to what no doubt would have been an uplifting feature, Mike on green pulled in front of a conversion van-the kind that had been a church-type carrier of 12-15 passengers. For me, time stood still. I shouted, "Look out!" I remember the Bangles cover of Hazy Shade of Winter was playing-I heard "in the Salvation Army band" as metal began to rend metal, glass shattered and I was partially ejected with my head and right shoulder exiting the windshield despite Mike making an almost maternal, preternatural effort to catch me and hold me in the car with his right hand. I bounced head first on the dashboard above the glove box as the car spun 180 degrees torquing me back through the wind screen. The car settled facing the opposite direction we had been going. The radio continued to play although the car had fractured into several separate pieces of German steel. Mike asked me if I was OK. It seemed to be a question from a great distance away even though we were still seated side by side. Momentarily, I could not respond as my ears were ringing and I saw stars. Mike asked again-"Are you OK?" My senses normalized as I tried to move various and sundry parts. They all seemed to work although slowly and with pain. "Yes", I respond, "I think I am", as I managed to unhook myself with Mike's assistance and exit the mangled Volkswagen. We checked the occupants of the van that hit us-three older black people who also said they were alright as the Metro ambulance arrived. The meatwagon carried a crew that looked us over and wanted to know if we needed to be transported to a hospital. Mike and I declined as the second ambulance took the other motorists. I filled out a report to the traffic cop along with Mike and we requested as the hulks of ruin were hauled away that the remaining officer or departing ambulance crew drive us somewhere safe. We were informed by the public servants that they were not a taxi service and were abandoned in a rough neighborhood to our own devices. We walked injured a quarter of a mile to a Denny's- the only nearby open business at that time of night. I had not seen myself and proceeded to a bathroom while Mike requested a phone to call for a ride back to the safety and comfort of home. I look a fright with blood and glass all over me. I wipe and wash the gore and shards away as best I can. No wonder the staff and patrons looked at me like I was an alien as I entered. I stop all but a trickle of blood near my eye. I exit and Mike is being told by the untermenschen that work there that he can not use a phone as there is a pay phone, but we have no change. They will not break a bill unless we order something and there is a $5 minimum. I am angry but order coffee, Mike orders a breakfast and I pay with a hundred. I try to call my parents to pick us up, but they can't as they are on death watch. Mike's father who I have never met drives into Nashville from an outlying community to collect us. He has interesting stories. He is six feet, six inches and was a Vietnam era SP(navy cop). He says he managed Madison Square Garden for Gulf and Western and came to Tennessee to be Comptroller of the largest industrial project in Tennessee to that time-a Japanese auto plant. He had a shocked look when he saw me as Mike had said no one was hurt in the wreck. Day is breaking as I bid Mike adieu. MRI and CAT scan. Cerebral concussion and ruined right shoulder. 30% disability rating-dumb doctor says he won't give me a higher rating thinking I am trying to game the system. I am actually gratified that I was not injured worse or killed. My family would never seek nor accept charity or government assistance and all I wanted was to work my way back to 100%. I am distressed that my insurance company makes me sue Mike to cover my injuries. Nine months of rehab follow. I graduate from physical therapy only to destroy my right ankle on ice the next day. Folks at the clinic are surprised to see me. I was, as is typical in my life, injured trying to do a good deed. The next door neighbor's female yellow lab was left in a cage in an ice storm. I snuck over and brought her to my grandmother's home where I was after her passing and waited for the winter blast to die down. In the early daylight, I slipped Precious back into her cage and rolled my ankle on a slick spot on the way back in. As granny used to say:"Ain't life grand."