Bam Bam Crunch!

A month later the sights and the sounds are still fresh.

Traffic home was heavier than usual on the surface streets. The local radio news reported a fatality on the freeway about seven miles away.

Suddenly the brake lights flashed in front of me- I hit my brakes.  Catching my breath I thought “Thank God I didn’t that grey car in front of me.”
“Bam!” The black car behind me slammed into me, as my foot sat on the brake.

“Bam! Crunch!” The black car pushed me into the car into the grey car.

The three of us pulled over onto a side street.  I felt fazed a bit disoriented. All of us were OK or so I thought.  We exchanged insurance information and I flagged down a police officer, who said she was actually heading to a different car accident.   She took our statements to write her report. Ultimately the person who hit me was determined at fault.

That night I woke up with a raging headache,  and neck pains. I felt dizzy getting up too quickly. Walking down stairs,without holding the arm rail made me nervous, which is problematic because I live in a two level townhome.

The following morning I called my insurance company and told them that I would be filing a claim not only to the damages not only on my 2006 Honda Accord, but also to the damages to me.

My seatbelt is locked my car looked uglier but was still driveable for short distances,  but almost a month later and quite a few visits to my chiropractor it is still painful to look over my shoulder or tilt my head to my shoulder, but I’m getting better.

I still feel anxious if I hear unexpected loud noises, and particularly while driving.

When friends or the used car guy asked,  “Aren’t you scared about traveling to Lebanon?”

“Bam bam crunch” reminded me danger lurks anywhere. This car accident happened three miles from home. I was driving at a slow speed in a “safe” car and I still was hurt.

Heading to Lebanon about 7200 miles away from home to learn about the people, the culture and history seems like a safer alternative.

And as a bonus for 19 days, I won’t be driving.

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Author: Kristi Beres

Wanderer, observer, prone to occasional bouts of snark and sarcasm.

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