| I’ll start with the first words I told my mom: “I’m OK.”
What followed was the bad news. “But I’ve been in a bad car accident.”
The latter is probably a mom’s worst nightmare, especially if it’s coming from someone else, saying your son or daughter has been in a car accident. That’s one of the reasons I feel so lucky, the fact that I could call my mom and start off by telling her I’m OK.
It happened last weekend at 8:20 on a Sunday night. I’d gone to Minnesota to visit my friend Thor and watch his sister Quinn compete in the Miss Minnesota Pageant. Quinn’s friend Alexis came along for the ride. After the pageant, we headed up to Brainerd, Minn. to Thor’s family’s house for a day on the lake. We never got the nice, relaxing day I had been looking forward to for weeks.
It was raining pretty hard and I was at the wheel. Maybe it’s the young man in me, but I’ve always felt sort of invincible on the road. I don’t drive like this, but I always feel in control. I’ve put in a lot of miles with work and road trips and I always felt like a good driver. Thor had just made fun of me for driving too slow. But a little voice in the back of my head told me to drive 55 mph. When you drive faster than 55 and there’s a lot of rain on the road, you can hydroplane.
I don’t know if that’s scientifically proven, and I’ve probably driven faster before, but on this day, I could hear my Aunt Becky’s voice.
When I was 13, Becky’s daughter Bree was killed in a car accident. Bree was riding to a wedding with her boyfriend, and a bus hit their car. Bree hit her head on the window and died later that night. She was less than a month away from her 21st birthday.
I think about Bree a lot, but rarely about the way she died. I’d rather think about playing Ghostbusters in my basement with Bree and the tasty funnel cakes she made me as a kid. I never saw Bree in the hospital. I never saw her boyfriend’s car and I never thought about the accident. I don’t even know all the details, and I don’t want to.
So I was driving north along the highway at about 55 – just like Becky had said years before when talking to no one in particular – and I saw a car out of the corner of my eye. She was crossing the highway, going east onto a county road. Everything moved in slow motion from that point forward. I honked. Slammed my breaks.
She must see. She’s got to see me.
I turned my wheel slightly to the right.
If she stops or at least swerves, I can miss her without driving off the road completely.
But just as that thought crossed through my head, a split second after I saw her in the corner of my eye, she kept rolling forward, and …
Boom.
The impact played over and over in my head that night. I can see it right now. My car T-boned the passenger side of hers. I can see my front bumper crunching, and the indentation in her car. I can see glass breaking in slow motion. I can hear the pop of my air bags. My car spun around and ended up backwards on the side of the road. I don’t remember the spinning; I didn’t even feel it. All I remember is letting go of the steering wheel and looking over at Alexis, seeing how afraid she was, and then looking back at Thor to see the pain and fear in his face. I knew they were scared, but I also could see that there was no blood and they were still talking and they were going to be OK.
But what about the other car, I thought.
The other car had slid down a hill, but I couldn’t see inside because of the rain and the distance. My door wouldn’t budge. Alexis’ door wouldn’t open either. Then I got Thor’s door to open and climbed out the back. As I ran down the hill, it was the first time that I got scared. What was I going to find?
The girl opened the door and got out crying. She was so young and so scared. She said something about her friend, then I think she said sorry. All I remember is the fear in her face, and I knew what was inside couldn’t be good.
Her friend in the passenger seat was hurt. I don’t think he was responding at first. She kept trying to get him to say something. He had a cut above his right eye. He looked at me and asked, “What’s happening?”
I told him we’d all been in a car accident and not to move. I’ve watched enough sports to know someone who could have a serious injury shouldn’t move.
I got out my phone and dialed 911. Cars had started to stop. There was another man there and I talked to the operator and started back for my car.
The police arrived next and I tried to keep going back and forth. I didn’t know what to do at this point. I had Thor call his parents.
The ambulance arrived, and I knew there was nothing else for me to do but comfort my friends and make the one call that part of my didn’t want to make and part of me did. I wanted to hear her voice, but I didn’t want her to have to worry.
I climbed in the front of the ambulance to get out of the rain and I called my mom.
Mom was so happy to hear from me. I wished I could have been as happy to make the call. I wished, of course, that none of this had happened, but it had.
“Mom, I’m OK,” I said as I could hear her face change to that look of concern she gets, “but I’ve been a bad car accident.”
Then I told her what happened. I’m OK. Everyone’s OK. That’s what I feel blessed to say now.
I don’t know about the boy, but the police officer told me that night he was going to be OK and the insurance man told me the same days later. He spent a couple nights in the hospital, but he was going to be OK. Thor and Alexis were both on crutches, and it looked like Alexis had a softball in her leg that night, but she’s going to be OK.
That night I couldn’t get the flashback of the impact out of my head. I thought about Bree and I thought about my friends and my family. I had bad dreams, like other cousins getting in car accidents. It’s weird what we dream about when we’re scared.
But, like everything, I guess there’s some good that I experienced. The people.
All the people who stopped. One man was a Iowa State trooper and stopped before the police arrived. He stayed throughout, answering any questions I had. Another man named Jeff lived close by, saw there had been an accident and came to check if everyone was all right. Jeff and I exchanged numbers and he sent me a text that night to check on me and my friends. He said that he and his wife worked at the courthouse in the city nearby and to let him know if we needed anything.
I woke up the next morning and I had two texts. One was from my cousin Sarah and another from my cousin Kate.
Since I’ve been back, everyone who knows about the accident has given me a big hug and I can feel the love in their embraces and words.
When I got home late Monday night, I got what I had needed that whole time. My mom gave me a big hug. I got to tell her one more time that I was OK.
I don’t know if someone was looking over us that night or what. I’m not sure I buy that. Why would someone be looking over me and not Bree? All I know is we were lucky, and we’re OK, and I don’t feel invincible anymore.
But I do feel loved and blessed to have my friends and family, and to have people in my life that I can tell, I’m OK.

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