Wednesday, January 25, 2012

My Automobile Passion: Ch. 2

My Beloved #2
So back to the Chevy dealer we go. A pre-loved 2002 white, 4-door Chevy Blazer, with a little more balls (a 6-cylinder 4.3L engine). She was great, the interior was much more roomy and could comfortably house all the artwork, bags, books, laptop, food, drinks, etc. I was towing back and forth every day to college. I was much more gentle with her. The lack of a truck bed, and the payments I was now making myself, reminded me that she needed more love and less harassment. Plus, by this time, time itself was limited because I was working, studying, doing homework and cleaning my new house and car all the time. Freedom was limited, but that was okay, I was doing my favorite thing – learning.

Two glorious years with my SUV go by and I’m still in love. So April, 9th, 2007 I’m headed home from my college and off to my part time job. I’m on the interstate and traffic abruptly slows to about 65 mph. 

I’m carefully watching the lady behind me, who appears to be on her phone, lose control and swerving between two lanes. Trying not to hit the car in front of me, I slow down and brace for impact.

Next thing I know I’m upside down in my car. I stayed conscious through the three and a half flips my vehicle managed to do, but it all felt like it happened in a millisecond. I unbuckle my seat belt and pull myself out the window. 

I stand up and start screaming bloody murder at the sight of my car. A man, a professor from FGCU whom I never got the name of, stops and helps me. He soothes me into a mild gasping state, informs me that emergency vehicles are on the way and asks me if I’m okay.

I find my phone - the only thing still in my car - right in plain view on the ceiling above the driver seat (which is now planted into the pavement) and I call my mom at her work. 

It takes me forever to finally get transferred to my mother. As soon as she hears the panic in my voice she tells me to call my step-dad (you think I would have known by now) who works less than 10 minutes from the accident. 
He arrives in 5 minutes. 
The sound of his voice calmed me enough to then call my work and inform them that I wouldn’t make it on time. 
I decide to start photographing the accident and talking to the firemen and the medics. The moment he arrives, I run to him crying. He always saves the day :)

Nothing hurt, except my shoulder, I kept saying, pointing at my elbow, which had only a few scrapes on it. I refused to go in the ambulance, which I would later regret, but I felt too much adrenaline rushing through my body to feel pain. The firemen helped to pick up my books and other artifacts that had been scattered within about a half a mile on all sides of where my vehicle was now planted.

The next day I was overwhelmed with pain. You know how people say they feel like they were “hit by a truck” that exactly explains the pain I was in. 

There was not a part on my body that didn’t hurt. I get a call from the lady’s insurance company. They ask me if I want to settle for $1000. I tell them they are dumb. My boyfriend at the time finds a lawyer and we sue them. I get loads of money. 

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