June 2, 2007

• The good news is, everyone involved is alright.

  The bad news is, the Skylark is toast.  

  So it’s a few minutes after midnight and I’m curled up in the recliner, reading, when the phone rings. It’s Charles.

  “I’ve been in an accident!” he….what? Stated? Stuttered? Cried? Said shakily?

  I forget. There’s something about hearing emergency vehicle sirens in
  the background that snags one’s attention. Clearly agitated, he
  repeated he’d been in an accident…the car’s totaled…he’s okay,
  though. I pressed him as to where he was and he managed to tell me,
  “121 south, at 35!”

  Took me a moment to place it but I finally did, assured him “Mama’s
  coming, Charles! Mama’s coming!” then ran into the bedroom, flipping on
  the light as I made the terse announcement to Don, who’d been asleep.

  Did I mention a strong thunderstorm was pounding us at the time? Well, it was.

  
  We drove in grim silence through the pouring rain, lightning, and
  thunder till we exited I-35 onto 121. Immediately we saw a plethora of
  emergency vehicle lights on the opposite side of the freeway. We exited
  and came back around, to see flares, multiple police cars, at least one
  fire truck and an ambulance, along with three damaged cars, including
  the most damaged….our
  Skylark. The front end was completely demolished and the rear wasn’t
  looking too spiffy, either. It was stopped sideways in the middle of
  the freeway, with the other two cars somewhere behind it. Don carefully
  pulled up in front of the ambulance, in the inside lane of the freeway
  (no one could get through to it, as that was the lane with flares, one
  of the cars, police cars, etc.), and I hopped out into the rain
  (neglecting to remove my glasses, which was really dumb) and began
  running and calling “Charles! CHARLES!!!” A policeman came up to me, I
  gripped his arm and pleaded, “Charles? My son? That’s his car!” and
  pointed to the Skylark. “Omigod…was anyone hurt? Look at these cars!”

  Blessed, blessed words from the reassuring officer: “Ma’am, he’s fine. They’re all
  fine. They’re sitting in the ambulance,” and so saying he led me to it
  and opened the door. Charles was sitting there, closest to the door,
  along with four or five other young people.

  Turns out the girl was American, but the three young men were from Australia.

  Charles had been in Carrollton visiting a friend and was driving back,
  below the speed limit due to the heavy rain, staying in the lane with
  no other traffic so as to avoid backsplash, when he suddenly realized
  there was a car ahead of him, stopped on the freeway. He slammed on his
  brakes, spinning out, and apparently hit the concrete divider and was
  in turn hit by one of the other cars who’d been behind him. The airbags
  deployed, causing the interior of the car to fill with smoke, scaring
  the living daylights out of him. Due to the damage he had a hard time
  getting out of the car, all the while terrified it was going to explode
  (apparently it wasn’t the engine though…just the airbags, according
  to the fireman).

  The guy in the stopped car was drunk, and – still carrying his beer -
  began running away from the scene, with the Australian men in hot
  pursuit. They caught him.

  It must have been quite the scene. Those Aussies will certainly have a tale to tell when they get home, won’t they?

  Eventually the wrecker showed up, Don arranged with him to have the
  Skylark taken to his establishment instead of the city pound (where
  we’d have to pay), and we left, arriving back home a bit after 1 a.m.

  That’s the second weekend in a row that Don and I were on that stretch of freeway shortly after midnight because of Charles.  Hope this trend doesn’t continue. 

  • 3:20 pm
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