Chain Reaction

Ten years ago, when I still lived at home with my parents, and my husband was just my new boyfriend, I inadvertently caused a car accident. One late summer night I wanted to meet my boyfriend at a friend's house. In order to get to my mom's Ford Taurus (the car of choice, when the choice came down to that or my Dad's blue Buick) someone needed to move the Buick out of the tandem driveway.

We lived near a busy intersection on a busy street. But traffic was sparse this night. So sparse in fact, that the slightly intoxicated lady driving the SUV down the hill at a high rate of speed should have had plenty of time to see my brother backing the blue boat out onto the street. After all, she had a clear line of sight from the top of the hill to the intersection at the bottom.

She crashed into the Buick underneath my parents' bedroom window. I’m not sure what woke my dad: the noise of the crash, or my mom, who was watching us through the window, shouting, "David's been hit!" Either way, Dad bolts out of bed, flies out of the house, and starts running down the street. Only the running was more like prancing because he was shot through with adrenaline and was barefoot on a sidewalk littered with gravel. On his way to save his youngest child, he hadn't thought to put on shoes, his glasses, or any clothes. I should mention that he was sleeping in his tightie-whities.

My brother was fine, the car needed some work, Dad didn't seem to be embarrassed by the ordeal, and the SUV driver got off clean, even though the cops said she was "borderline" on the sobriety test. And my boyfriend thought I was joking when I called and said, "Can you come here instead? My brother's just been in a car accident and my dad's half naked."


Thanks to Jenna Glatzer at Hot Diggity! for prompting me to share this story. I was lucky enough to win one of Jenna's books, The Street Smart Writer, during the Bloggy Giveaway Carnival.