The Great Crash of ‘68
It was just an ordinary summer day in Michigan. Nobody expected anything important to happen. The only event on the calendar was our wedding and that was still six weeks away. Sharon and I had just spent a pleasant afternoon with her mom and dad in Garden City. Now, she was driving me home to my family's house in Wayne, about five miles away. We didn't know our world was about to explode. . .
We were in her parents' Mercury, headed southbound on Venoy at about 35 miles per hour. As we approached Cherry Hill Road, the light turned green and there was no reason to slow down. And then, I saw it coming. Another car was headed toward the intersection from the left at a high rate of speed. I shouted "Watch out!" but it was too late. The two cars collided in a deafening crash.
Suddenly, time no longer flowed at its normal pace. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. But it was more than that. Reality was no longer a continuous stream. Instead, life was edited into a series of fragmented scenes, separate clips combined into a surreal movie trailer.
Scene 1: I open my eyes but all I can see is a bright red haze. What can that mean? Then I realize my face is covered in blood.
Scene 2: I fumble with the door handle and roll myself out onto the pavement. What's left of the Mercury is still slowly spinning.
Scene 3: As the car hisses and groans to a halt, I crawl blindly through the intersection, trying to find help. My hands reach something that feels like a curb.
Scene 4: Sharon and I have been placed side-by-side in an ambulance. She is sobbing hysterically. I am strangely calm and probably in shock.
Scene 5: As we hurtle toward the hospital, siren blaring, the driver asks his co-worker, "So, what do you think?". He replies, "Well, the girl will be OK but I don't think that guy is gonna make it.".
Although the Mercury was totaled, Sharon managed to escape the accident with a few stitches on her hairline above her eye and a couple of broken teeth. I sustained a little more damage. My violent encounter with the windshield resulted in a serious loss of blood, gruesome lacerations, 70 stitches and a probable concussion. No wonder the guy riding shotgun in the ambulance didn't think I would make it.
In rest and recovery mode at my parents’ house
The following day, we learned the driver of the other car had been drinking. As is often the case in similar accidents, he wasn't injured at all. We were also told that no one at the scene had called for an ambulance. One just happened to be driving by right after the collision. That probably saved my life.
The remains of the Mercury in the local junkyard
So, what did I learn from this whole experience? Three things:
Always wear your seatbelt. In 1968, they became mandatory equipment in all new cars but personal usage was not required in Michigan until 1985. If we had been belted in, we may have walked away without a scratch.
Never trust other drivers. They may be impaired, texting or just not paying attention. A green light doesn't just mean you have the right of way. It also means "proceed with caution".
Remember that life is fragile and each day is precious. When you least expect it, everything can change in an instant. Have fun but be careful and don't do anything stupid.
And that's the way the story goes.