The Collision

I've heard people in books describe the seconds before the car hits you.  They say the world slows, that you can feel every tick on the clock like a pulse in your body.  Like the lines are blurring; for a second, you're no longer here, no longer there.

 

It's nothing like that.  Granted, I didn't get seriously hurt, or die.  But that didn't change the fact that there was two tons of metal hurtling my way and I didn't have time to close my eyes. 

 

The setting was just before sunrise, last winter, in the crosswalk in front of my high school.  The sign was of a blazing green walking man--You can cross now.  It's safe.  I was hurtling around the corner like a meteor, momentum incredible from the hill I'd just left.  I was wearing my heavy navy-blue jacket; with the sun still minutes away (and I would know; I took this route to get to school every day) I must have been completely invisible.  The only thing that might have been sighted by the time of collision was my electric-blue bike.

 

I saw the car rounding the bend across the street, but I'd seen cars cross the street every day.  The difference was, I was halfway across and he wasn't stopping.  I saw it in my peripheral vision, and time did not do anything at all.  I saw the man's eyes widen, but for some reason it was the passenger that drew my eye.  She sat next to me in Science class.

 

I was still mulling that one over when the car smashed into me bike, throwing me hard to the ground.  The way I'd been struck, my left leg should have been crushed, but I guess I must have moved it by the time I'd subconsciously worked out what was going on.  I found myself, dazed but with no more injury than a stinging scrape across my knee where I'd fallen, on the pavement, surrounded by lights.

 

I had to explain the situation to the driver, my classmate, the police, the ambulance full of expectant paramedics, and my Spanish teacher (who'd witnessed the whole thing from the front of the school).  I had to call my mom and prove I didn't have a concussion.  As I answered the paramedic's questions and listened to my classmate's apologies (though she'd tell the whole school later that her father had the right of way), I kept my hand pressed over my bleeding knee and marveled that it was the worst thing that had come of it.  My bike, as it turned out, had been left in one piece, but the brakes were completely out and the front tire was bent so far out of shape it couldn't be rolled.

 

When I walked into Spanish class ten minutes later, the whole class started applauding and demanding I tell them everything.  Mrs. Hefter, the one who'd observed in a terrified silence from the parking lot, had given them all the details by the time she'd tottered back to the classroom.

 

After that, the next few days were a blaze of questions.  For a week I was the school's most famous student.  In every class, the first thing to pop out of people's mouths was "Were you the one that got hit by a car?"  People I didn't know came up to me in the hallway to ask, as if they were expecting me to tell me something they didn't know, like I'd actually died in the collision, thanks for the condolences. 

 

We did get reimbursed for the bike, but I can't help but thinking as long as I bike to school, it can happen again.  And next time, it'll be so much worse.

 

They told me I was the first person to get hit in our school crosswalk ever.

Author's Note

I can't believe I haven't penned this event yet.

Reviews

[Calypso]

I loved this story! You told it so well. That's crazy that it happened to you, but thankfully you lived.

[JelliFyshKissUs]

You tell tales of your life with such engrossing strokes. At least, I think this is a true story. Anyway, excellent job, and sorry you had such a scare in your life. Glad you're okay.