the accident: part one

I was saving this for my quotes page, but it's perfect for this series of posts.
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With the exception of my mom and aunt's presence (they are visiting for ten days), Thursday evening begins like any other. I finish work, change clothes, hop in the Santa Fe and head to the U.S. Embassy to play a little fútbol.

We live near the top of a hill (okay, mountain) and it takes fifteen minutes to drive from our house to the bottom. Three minutes from the Home is a point where the road splits to the right and left, and the two roads connect to each other on the other side, forming a small triangular piece of land. We refer to this area as the triangle (sophisticated, I know).

I stop at the triangle stop sign before turning left/downhill. At this juncture, several thoughts float through my brain, including, This is the place where that guy on the motorcycle flicked me off for making the turn too close to him. So I double check, looking up and down the road, that there are no cars within one hundred feet of the triangle. Coast is clear. I successfully make the turn and think about hooking my iPod into the stereo system.

The next thing I remember is an air bag in my face, the smell of burning rubber, pain pulsating in my elbow, and bloody lacerations on my arms. I've been in an accident. Again. And (after seeing the position of my car - parked halfway in the oncoming lane) it's my fault.

Having already been through this once, experience and instinct kick in. I assess my situation: Sustained injuries? Only my arms and partial hearing loss in my left ear. Cell phone? Missing. Driver side door? Jammed. Keys? Stuck in the ignition. I have to get out of this car before someone else runs into it.

Grabbing my bag, I extract myself from the driver seat and exit through the passenger side door. Up the road, about forty feet, I spot the other vehicle involved, perpendicular to the road, front driver's side destroyed, its owner still inside. I jog over to him, confirm he's alive, seemingly uninjured, but in shock, "Lo siento. Lo siento (I'm sorry. I'm sorry)," I cry, dropping my bag on the side of the road and returning to the Santa Fe. Inspecting the left side of the car, I see the front wheel and driver's side door are completely decimated. What happened? I still can't remember.

After retrieving my iPod from the front seat, I have the mental clarity to retrieve the orange caution cone from the trunk and place it behind the Santa Fe. All Salvadorans are required to carry one in their vehicle, to be used in the event of an accident or emergency (something I learned during my first accident in El Salvador).

I move back to the side of the road, wondering how I am going to call anybody - the insurance company, Rachel or Kelly - when the police miraculously arrive. They just happened to be in the area (I later learned they had just left their post at that exact spot five minutes before my accident).

The lone policewoman approaches me, asking what happened. "De verdad, no sé. (Really, I don't know)," I lamented. I ask to use her phone and dial the Home's number because I remember Kelly had been working in the office when I left the house.

"Hello?" Thank God she answered.

"I...um...I...uh....I...," I stutter, not knowing what to say or how to say it, finally spitting out,
"I need help!"

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This is the first in a series of posts describing the accident. I hope to post from my perspective, as well as the perspective of those who came beside me to help in my time of need.

I want to end this post by praising my Lord and Savior for preserving my life, my body, my mind and the blessings He bestowed on me in the midst of this traumatic event.