It’s interesting how memories are recorded. How our minds choose what to retain and what to throw away. It seems like, minds pick trauma as something to record.
I have memories.
I’ll tell you about a memory from my teenage years.
My Car Crash Story.
The year was Nineteen Ninety Eight and it had rained that night.
I purchased my first truck a week prior. The truck was a full size extended cab Dodge Ram. Painted midnight black with all the trimmings.
I had been eighteen for only a few months when I offered to drive seven teenagers in a vehicle with only six seatbelts.
There was a girl sitting next to me. I don’t remember what she looked like or what her name was.
[As I was writing this a nervous chill ran through my body. I am back in the driver seat. This is how I remember it…]
I was driving down a major street in Southern California. This street runs North and South and has two lanes in each direction. The two directions are divided with sections of large cement ramps. The top of which are lined with trees.
When it rains, the shape of the street causes water to collect near the curb. I decided to drive over the water. I was totally sober mind you. Knowing myself, it was my intention to provide my passengers more than just a ride.
Water collided with parked cars as it flowed down the street. The water didn’t reach out far enough so I needed to drive in-between the parked cars to get to the water. This was the excitement. The closer I came to hitting a parked car, the better.
Suddenly, the girl next to me grabbed the steering wheel. Pulling it towards her. We hit a parked car. A deep thunderous crash. The airbags deployed and white smelly smoke filled the cab. The impact careened us towards the center divider. The angle of the divider sent the truck airborne. As we crossed, we hit a tree, leaving behind a jagged stump. We landed on the opposite side and finally came to a rest, one hundred and fifty feet from the car we hit.
“Get out get out get out”. We immediately exited the truck. No one was hurt.
A few minutes later the police arrived. I remember the cop trying to get me for drunk driving. Searching my eyes for signs of intoxication he said, “Have you been drinking tonight.” “No.” “Are you sure you haven’t been drinking”. The cop pressed. “Yes” I insisted.
In the distance I could see what was probably the owner of the car we hit, talking to the police.
I was rattled to say the least. I stayed at a friends house that night.
The insurance company decided to repair the truck. It took the body shop two months to fix it. As soon as I got it back, I put it up for sale.
The fact that it was in an accident never came up.
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