Regular Monday.
Regular day at work.
Regular ride home.
Atlantic Boulevard. Regular red light.
Tires screech.
Tires always screech. No big deal.
Seems close though.
Look in my rear view mirror and
BAM!
I see a red truck bounce off a white van behind me.
The front of the red truck is smashed.
The van is,
WAIT
I HAVE NO PLACE TO GO.
The van goes from a dead stop to being slammed right at me.
When they say things can happen fast...
It's like I had 5 minutes of thoughts in just a split second.
I remember a grey car in front of me.
I stepped on the gas, swerved left.
I hit the gas so hard I thought I had gotten hit from behind.
I was immediately in the middle of the median turn lane.
I hit my hazards and slowed to a halt.
The car in front of me drove away oblivious.
Holy shit I said out loud.
I looked in both rear view mirrors and saw steam. I watched the white van slide off to my passenger side.
The red truck was pretty smashed up and the driver didn't move. His chin was on his chest.
Holy shit I said out loud again and jumped out of my truck.
Others were running to the scene too.
I saw the driver of the van get out.
Three of us got to the driver of the red truck at the same time. The door was open.
One was a woman, already calling 911 and calming the driver at the same time.
The second was the driver of the van, and I was the third.
I reached and held the shoulder of the driver from the van and asked if he was OK. He nodded, then said yes, thanks.
The back of his van was pretty damaged. Doors were pushed in, bumper smashed in, glass window broken, wheel wells flared out and tail lights shattered.
The red truck was an older model full size pick up. No air bags.
The hood was pushed in up to the windshield.
Thankfully no broken windshield or blood.
I stayed with the driver until Rescue arrived.
His name was Don.
He was older, 60's I guessed.
He was on oxygen. I asked how his oxygen level was, and helped him change a canister. He was shaking.
His cab was a mess. The impact threw everything everywhere.
He wasn't really moving.
I asked if he was wearing his seatbelt. He said yes.
He wore cowboy boots.
He took the impact to his stomach and chest, being slammed into the steering wheel. His knees went into and down under the dash he said. He kept grabbing his head, like he expected to find blood on his hands.
I tried to be calming and keep him alert.
He was talking in short abbreviated answers.
I saw no evidence of drinking. I did not smell beer or booze, and no cans or evidence of drinking in the truck.
I asked if he was on his way from work. No, he said, he was disabled.
He had a small cross hanging from his rear view mirror.
I've never been in a situation like this before. As chaotic as it was, I also knew it could have been so much worse.
When Rescue arrived, I told them that his name was Don, he's on oxygen, and he seems more banged up than he's saying.
As they were attending him, they called him by name and checked his oxygen.
I heard him refuse treatment.
Hopefully it's not that easy, I thought, and was given a look by the EMT that it wouldn't be.
I hoped what little I did, what little I learned, and what little shared, helped in some way.
I gave business cards of mine to the driver of the van.
I have to pick up my son, I told him, and the driver of the truck looks like he is in good hands.
Reach me if anyone has any questions.
He asked, I didn't hit you, did I?
No, no you didn't, somehow you did great.
He shook my hand and introduced himself as Eric.
I got back to my truck and realized it had been running the whole time, blinkers flashing, in the middle of four lanes of backed up traffic.
Dang, why am I shaking, I asked myself.
I said a quiet prayer for everyone involved, and then I called my wife.
I was thinking of her and my boys. Things can happen so fast when you least expect it.
Be careful out there.
Please.
.
