What happened to Daphne...
It was pouring rain as I drove to work this afternoon (as a point of fact, it’s been pouring rain off an on for a couple of days now). Not good driving weather, I’m sure most would agree. As I was getting closer to Des Moines, I was coming up over a hill on the Interstate, and BRAKE! Cars in front of me start braking quickly. I brake quickly and although I don’t even come close to hitting the car in front of me, the experience sends adrenaline through my body. I don’t even know why cars are braking at this point, but I see Daphne in my head.
Daphne was my first car. She was a faithful 1995 Ford Escort. White paint, blue interior. She looked like the stereotype of a poor college student’s car. Not too run down, but clearly not posh or stylish. I purchased her at the end of my Freshman year, at the age of 19 (incidentally, this is also around the time I got my driver’s license. Actually, to be more exact, I got my license one month before my 19th birthday. Why did I wait so long? Bad coincidences. Laziness. Lack of car. Now that I could afford a car, it seemed the time to get the license to drive it. Also a fun fact: I got my drivers license exactly a week before my sister did. My three-years-younger sister. Phew…end parenthetical). She was a good car, in as far as the fact that she usually ran. However, there always seemed to be something wrong with her and after owning her for 2.5 years I had spent well over what I’d paid for her on repairs alone (my favorite was the incident involving me replacing the engine). None of the reasons for these repairs were my fault, but they did seem rather extraneous or just plain odd (in the first few months I had the car I had at least three flat tires), and the only good thing seemed to be that I have low car insurance.
Flashback to December 19, 2003
It’s a much nicer day than the current one. Although it’s winter, it isn’t too cold out. High 40s. Maybe even 50. I live in Boulder but I’m visiting my parents (they only live about 35 minutes away). I leave the house to go to work (Linens-N-Things). The sun is shining and I think about taking off my coat. I imagine I will be too hot in the car without it, but I leave in on anyway (laziness). I place my cell phone in my lap (as is my ritual). I’m especially dreading work as I drive. And, for the first time in my life, I miss the exit to get on to the correct Highway. I’m still on the darn Interstate. Cursing my foolishness, I take the next exit. I turn around and am heading back in the right direction on the Interstate. I come over a hill and…BRAKE! Cars are breaking in front of me and I know there is no way I’m going to be able to stop in time. I brake, glance over my left shoulder, and swerve, trying to avoid hitting the car in front of me. Crunch! I clip the back left portion of the SUV’s bumper, but I feel my body release a little tension. Then the unexpected happens. It feels like time just stops, but really it can’t have. The truck behind me rams into the back of my car, spinning my 180 degrees. He then hits the SUV, I clipped, pushing her into the car in front of her. I’m in shock and don’t know how to react. I don’t really have any injuries. My heavy coat spared me the chest/seatbelt bruise. I don’t even develop whiplash later. Cars are slowing down across the 4 lane interstate, gawking at me and I can hear their Man, that sucks. My arm is a little bruised because I instinctively put it up to protect my face when my airbag deployed. I have a small cut on my hand (which I don’t notice until later when a fireman points it out. Adrenaline can do crazy things). The front of my car doesn’t look too hot, but the back is by far much worse. My laundry basket that was in the trunk/hatchback is now in the back seat and my rear window is shattered (as a side note, although it severely cracked and has actually cut me a few times, I refuse to throw that laundry basket away, much to my mother’s chagrin. I don’t know why I keep holding on to it. Right now it’s sitting in the bottom of my linen closet and is perfect for my dirty towels). No one is really hurt from the accident. Police cars show up eventually. My officer tells me that it’s probably a good thing I swerved (despite the unfortunate fact that I hit the car in front of me, for which I naturally got a ticket), because otherwise my car would have been crushed between the truck and the SUV. Daphne looks sad and pathetic. She’s leaking radiator fluid, the radio is still playing, and for some reason the windshield wipers are going as she’s hauled onto the tow truck. I manage to get most my belongings out of her, finding my cell phone under the driver’s seat with the battery disconnected. A few days later, after assessing the damage, the insurance company determines that the car is “totaled.” My dad and I go to get the rest of my belongings out of her. I don’t like the impound lot she’s in. It is cold and has snowed since the accident. It is a place where cars go to die.
Today
So, usually when I’m in a car and someone slams on the brakes (me and others) I get a rush of adrenaline. Today, nothing new, but I remembered so vividly my white car facing the wrong direction of traffic, very close to the Interstate median. As I’m inching along in traffic, I see a sign cautioning cars to get over due to an accident. An ambulance streaks by. I come around a bend in the Interstate and see ambulances, fire trucks, and a white car. It’s facing the wrong direction of traffic and its rear end is up against the median.
Daphne was my first car. She was a faithful 1995 Ford Escort. White paint, blue interior. She looked like the stereotype of a poor college student’s car. Not too run down, but clearly not posh or stylish. I purchased her at the end of my Freshman year, at the age of 19 (incidentally, this is also around the time I got my driver’s license. Actually, to be more exact, I got my license one month before my 19th birthday. Why did I wait so long? Bad coincidences. Laziness. Lack of car. Now that I could afford a car, it seemed the time to get the license to drive it. Also a fun fact: I got my drivers license exactly a week before my sister did. My three-years-younger sister. Phew…end parenthetical). She was a good car, in as far as the fact that she usually ran. However, there always seemed to be something wrong with her and after owning her for 2.5 years I had spent well over what I’d paid for her on repairs alone (my favorite was the incident involving me replacing the engine). None of the reasons for these repairs were my fault, but they did seem rather extraneous or just plain odd (in the first few months I had the car I had at least three flat tires), and the only good thing seemed to be that I have low car insurance.
Flashback to December 19, 2003
It’s a much nicer day than the current one. Although it’s winter, it isn’t too cold out. High 40s. Maybe even 50. I live in Boulder but I’m visiting my parents (they only live about 35 minutes away). I leave the house to go to work (Linens-N-Things). The sun is shining and I think about taking off my coat. I imagine I will be too hot in the car without it, but I leave in on anyway (laziness). I place my cell phone in my lap (as is my ritual). I’m especially dreading work as I drive. And, for the first time in my life, I miss the exit to get on to the correct Highway. I’m still on the darn Interstate. Cursing my foolishness, I take the next exit. I turn around and am heading back in the right direction on the Interstate. I come over a hill and…BRAKE! Cars are breaking in front of me and I know there is no way I’m going to be able to stop in time. I brake, glance over my left shoulder, and swerve, trying to avoid hitting the car in front of me. Crunch! I clip the back left portion of the SUV’s bumper, but I feel my body release a little tension. Then the unexpected happens. It feels like time just stops, but really it can’t have. The truck behind me rams into the back of my car, spinning my 180 degrees. He then hits the SUV, I clipped, pushing her into the car in front of her. I’m in shock and don’t know how to react. I don’t really have any injuries. My heavy coat spared me the chest/seatbelt bruise. I don’t even develop whiplash later. Cars are slowing down across the 4 lane interstate, gawking at me and I can hear their Man, that sucks. My arm is a little bruised because I instinctively put it up to protect my face when my airbag deployed. I have a small cut on my hand (which I don’t notice until later when a fireman points it out. Adrenaline can do crazy things). The front of my car doesn’t look too hot, but the back is by far much worse. My laundry basket that was in the trunk/hatchback is now in the back seat and my rear window is shattered (as a side note, although it severely cracked and has actually cut me a few times, I refuse to throw that laundry basket away, much to my mother’s chagrin. I don’t know why I keep holding on to it. Right now it’s sitting in the bottom of my linen closet and is perfect for my dirty towels). No one is really hurt from the accident. Police cars show up eventually. My officer tells me that it’s probably a good thing I swerved (despite the unfortunate fact that I hit the car in front of me, for which I naturally got a ticket), because otherwise my car would have been crushed between the truck and the SUV. Daphne looks sad and pathetic. She’s leaking radiator fluid, the radio is still playing, and for some reason the windshield wipers are going as she’s hauled onto the tow truck. I manage to get most my belongings out of her, finding my cell phone under the driver’s seat with the battery disconnected. A few days later, after assessing the damage, the insurance company determines that the car is “totaled.” My dad and I go to get the rest of my belongings out of her. I don’t like the impound lot she’s in. It is cold and has snowed since the accident. It is a place where cars go to die.
Today
So, usually when I’m in a car and someone slams on the brakes (me and others) I get a rush of adrenaline. Today, nothing new, but I remembered so vividly my white car facing the wrong direction of traffic, very close to the Interstate median. As I’m inching along in traffic, I see a sign cautioning cars to get over due to an accident. An ambulance streaks by. I come around a bend in the Interstate and see ambulances, fire trucks, and a white car. It’s facing the wrong direction of traffic and its rear end is up against the median.
