Literature

"The Car Accident"

He opened his eyes, and noticed that his hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly, to the point where it hurt. He felt the cool evening breeze on his face, and noticed that there was no longer a windshield before him. Curiously, he looked around for it, thinking about how odd it was for a panel of glass to just…disappear. He eventually found it as his eyes went upwards, to see broken glass spread out all over the ceiling, along with all of his papers, CDs, and other trinkets. All of it was strewn about, covered with glass. Even more strangely, the road was above him as well, as he spotted his favorite Public Enemy CD on the asphalt next to the white lane line.

He sat there quietly, taking in his surroundings, as his brain worked feverishly through the calculations and eventually created a simple message that he could understand:

The car was upside down.

“Oh, crap,” he muttered quietly.

Without thinking he released his death grip on the wheel, leaving imprints on the soft plastic. Almost immediately he began to hyperventilate, gasping for breath as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. The panic overwhelmed him, and he grabbed the steering wheel, his lifeline, again, and began to calm down.

“Everything is fine,” he said soothingly to himself. “Everything is fine.”

He looked down at his body, trying to see if everything was there. He realized that something was terribly wrong:

The car was upside down!

But…he already knew that already.

But even more seriously, he could not feel his hands. He started to panic, until he noticed that his hands were right there in front of him. He sighed, relieved…until he discovered that now he couldn’t feel his legs!

Carefully, he began to recite every profane word that he could think of. He did this until a loud groan sounded from somewhere within the car. He froze, scared to even breathe.

The car creaked again, and he whimpered.

The ceiling is going to cave in, he thought; I’m going to be crushed to death.

A moment later there was a snap. A cry escaped his lips as his seat shook, and then disconnected from its mountings, pulling out the screws that held it in place. He closed his eyes and yelled as he and the chair fell.

He hit the ceiling, the weight of the chair on top of him. The side of his face pressed down onto one of his notebooks. He cried out as he struggled to push the chair off of him, but it would not budge. He stopped for a moment as he felt the seatbelt strap cutting into his stomach.

“Damn it all!” he yelled as he found the seat belt release connected to the side of the chair, and released it. With all his might he pushed the chair off of him and stood up, only to hit his head on the dashboard. He swore again and ducked down into a squat, looking up and feebly shielding his face with his arm, expecting the rest of the car to fall onto him…but nothing happened. Instead, he only saw the empty spot where the driver’s seat used to be.

Very slowly he turned and crawled out through the frame where the windshield once was, trying not to touch the ground. The glass crunched under his feet. He picked up the Public Enemy CD, but it was scratched beyond repair.

“Perfect,” he muttered as he let it fall back onto the ground.

He stood up, and nearly fell back down as he felt pain ripple through his legs. They felt numb, but after a moment he could feel thousands of pins pricking his feet as the blood returned to them.
Slowly, he inspected himself. He had a few cuts and scrapes from the glass on his hands and arms, but miraculously nothing else.

The car wasn’t as lucky. It lay across both lanes of the deserted street. Smoke trailed from the engine block, and the roof was smashed in. The body was badly dented and the red paint was marred by many severe scratches. Pieces of the car were scattered all over the street. He choked back tears.

It was dusk. The streetlights were now lighting up, and looking down the street, he could see the crisscrossed tire marks on the pavement. He couldn’t remember what had happened.

“My God, are you all right?” A worried voice behind him said. He turned to see a young woman running towards him. He opened his mouth to speak, but could not. He was taken back by how attractive she was.

“Can you hear me?” she asked standing in front of him. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head dumbly, his mouth dry.

“Nah, I-I’m good. Couldn’t be better…” he replied, his legs wobbling.

She stared at him oddly. “But you were just in a car accident. I just called an ambulance; maybe you should sit down--”

“No,” its okay,” he insisted. “I’m fine. It happens all the time, really! I can stand.”

Then his legs buckled. He fell onto his knees. The young woman grabbed him by his arm, stopping him from falling flat onto his face.

“Okay, perhaps I will sit…” he said, feigning a weak smile.

---
“And that…” my father said to me, as he clasped his hands together, and grinned like a madman, “was how I met your mother.”

And I sat there, speechless.