As always, we ran late. Seriously, when can I get my act together? But, even though we woke up on time, C and I had a fight, therefore, making me late. Luckily, as I climbed into the Odyssey and turned on the GPS, it declared I’d be at my destination—C’s Cousin’s house (and then the DC Zoo)—right on time. Whew! We’re not going to be late after all. Well, provided traffic wasn’t harrowing, and DC traffic is notorious for being harrowing no matter what time of day your stuck in it.
As we passed by Hagerstown's exit I thought to myself about how great traffic was for us. Even when the GPS marked a delay, we didn’t hit it. Of course, we were 15 miles from 270 so I knew we’d hit traffic then. But, as we started climbing the mountain, just miles from the Myersville rest area--made notorious for being "the spot where the DC Sniper was apprehended", my van sputtered. I put it into third gear, praying it just needed an extra boost to get up the mountain. It sputtered, spattered, and tried like the little engine that could, but to no avail. The van stopped, in the middle of the road, of I70, a busy highway.
Luckily, I managed to get it halfway onto the meridian. I knew I wasn't far enough off the highway. The girls kept asking why the van was rocking when a car passed us. I promised them we wouldn't tip over. No, my fear was we were going to get hit by a careless driver. I took a deep breath, started tried to start the van every few minutes, until, finally, it started and coasted a little further off the road. Not perfectly safe, but better than before.
Now, I could call my husband.
He called a tow truck and had us conference into a 911 dispatcher so I could relay my location.
They told me they were trying to determine what county l was in--Washington or Frederick--for the police to locate me.
A state policeman arrived soon after. A nice man, who tried to help by playing Superman. He put my car in "neutral" and then asked me to climb in and guide the car. One push, no movement. Two push, no movement. I was pretty sure the car hadn't shifted into neutral--it wouldn't when I tried several times--but he gave it a third try before he gave up. Yes, cops don’t have super powers, despite popular beliefs. They cannot move a van that refuses to budge.
"The kids must have been too heavy. Is this what they meant by junk in my trunk?" I told him.
The cop didn't smile. I learned quickly that on duty policemen don't have much of a sense of humor. (I have friends who are state police who seem to be able to crack a joke here and there so this must be a on-duty phenomena because every police man I have encountered on duty have been very serious. Even the one who made us wait 15 minutes while I was in labor. And sent us away with a warning and lecture about speeding! Yes! No police escort to the hospital. I'm scrapbooking that warning.) In his professional state, he called back-up, explaining the more modern cars have rods on the front to push off degenerate vans who refuse to cave into the police officer's super human powers.
We waited. As we waited I called back C to talk about tow trucks while the officer went back to his car. I looked up and screamed, “Oh God it’s out of control!”—a red truck was spinning—am I in an action movie, how did I get here?—right at my van and the police car.
What to do?
The kids were strapped safely in their car seats (yes, for some reason I thought having them remain in their straps in the car was the safest route to go. I had visions of G running across the highway if I allowed them out of the van). There’s no time like screaming—yeah, didn’t you know screaming could stop motion? It definitely slowed it down.
And sobbing helps too because that's what I did. I just started to sob. If he hit us, there was going to be injury, possibly death, no doubt. But I couldn’t see how it wouldn’t hit us. It was going to take out the cop car and then us. I prayed for it to stop. I prayed that if it was going to do anything, it needed to stop.
I looked for the cop. The truck spun and struck his car, and all I saw was the cop fly (I was wrong, cops do have super powers) into the air and into the ditch. I knew by instincts he has propelled himself—it wasn’t the impact of the truck or anything. I just stood in awe as this massive red truck halted right at the edge of the police car. All other cars managed to avert hitting him. No major car pile up. No hitting the minivan full of four darling children. The news headline would not read: Cop & Family of five killed by uncontrolled vehicle.
I told my husband (later he said unintelligibly) what had just happened in between sobs. I climbed back into my van and tried to start it. Hey, angels were looking out for us…I had to try. No luck. I accepted my sacrifice of the dead car.
Meanwhile, we had seven cops swarm onto the scene. They kept asking one question after another and then going off to talk. Then more questions (the same one…look, I didn’t see WHY the truck was spinning and no matter how many times you asked, I am not going to see it) and then off again. Then, it became “where’s your tow?” I don’t know. Call them. They did. But, no tow. Chris’s friend Matt was on the scene and then C with a rental van. They took care of the tow while I piled the children into the van and headed to C’s cousin’s house. I arrived 1 ½ hours late.
Damn, the GPS lied to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment