In February of this year, I was in a car accident. I told police I was driving my 2004 Honda Pilot up the hill on University Parkway between Provo and Orem. I finished work at 5:00pm and was traveling home like I had done for almost 9 years. I assume I was traveling near the speed limit: 40 miles per hour. Then came a domino effect of cars slowing down in front of me, which abruptly rippled to a halt. I stopped with a car length between me and the next car. In my rear view mirror I saw the next car coming at full speed. It was as large as anything I had ever seen in that mirror. I was going to be hit. I braced for impact. That horrific clashing and crunching of metal and glass rung out. My left calf kicked the steering column. Surprisingly my airbag did not deploy, but I was scooting toward the car in front of me now. I braked harder. The car behind me slid off my back left panel. The car in front of me drove forward. I let my car roll ahead to a stop, breathed a sigh of relief, leaned back, and tried to process it.
I was a sitting duck. There was nothing I could do. I realized I might need to help free others from the wreck and unbuckled my seat belt. I pushed on my front door, but it didn’t budge. I slammed my body against it and it opened. By then a couple other drivers helped two high school girls out of a white Nissan Rogue. She apologized profusely, claiming something about straight A grades and never being in trouble before in her life. I tried to reassure her that this is what insurance is for (though I am still hoping for a $500 deductible refund). She was just dropping off someone’s car as a good deed for her dad. The owner did not have insurance. I took some pity on the girl and never did report how she and her friend were dancing wildly to the car radio.
