Gizmo just carried a bag of techie stuff (cables, cd's, etc) down the stairs and is now sitting on it.
WTF
In other news, I had a wee fender bender last weekend and I go back and forth between being proud of my reaction to it and then having sudden reactions to things that remind me of it. Unfamiliar road, didn't know there was a hairpin turn there... the signage that was there, well, I thought all the curves were like in the sign - nothing at all. Thank goodness the guardrail with nothing behind it spooked me, or I'd have kept going 35, which was already 5 below the speed limit. I've done turns like that at 35 or even 40 before but I knew they were coming and they were when my tires were newer and could handle it better. I think the major factor this time was being unprepared for it, though... isn't that why people usually have accidents? lol.
So anyway, I go up around a couple curves after the sign and no biggie, see the guardrail and think, meh, I'll slow down a bit more, just to be safe... and as I go into the curve it occurs to me that the curve doesn't seem to have an end... belatedly, I realize it's one of those hairpins. At that point I knew my car could handle such a thing but I knew the tires were no longer as grabby as they used to be, and wished I had been going even slower. So, I simply hung onto the wheel and hoped for the best, trying not to take it too tightly... but running out of room of course. I didn't brake, I knew better than that at that point, being in it already... glad I was forewarned about that mistake or who knows what might have happened.
As luck would have it, I didn't die. But I did hear a horribly loud screeching sound and watched as the guard rail between me and the dropoff got closer, all the while maintaining what I was doing and not letting anything move for fear of making it worse. At the last minute I felt my hands turn the wheel slightly toward the skid and for a split second I thought I'd get my control back. But by then it was too late and I hit the rail, front right corner first. I don't remember the impact or the sound it made. I do remember that it hit and that the car's back end swung around to match. Then the right rear corner hit. I remember that sequence even though I don't remember the actual impact sensation, although the more I think about it the more I have the impression of hearing something and feeling a sliding or scraping with thoughts of "so this is what it's like to hit a guard rail, always wondered that."
As the front end bounced left and I realized I'd regained traction somewhat, I steered toward the road and realized there was a ditch in front of me. This was almost a blur: I felt like I flew over the end of the ditch and onto the road. It was like a miniature turbo boost out of Knight Rider. But then I felt the back right tire angle the car backward. I was now angled in the ditch, still moving, like the front left tire was hanging onto the road or whatever was actually under it, and the opposite corner was dragging itself through the ditch. At that point I distinctly remember thinking, in words: "I didn't die! Now I'm not having my pride hurt in this damned ditch!" I gunned it (I was in second gear so who knows how that even helped) and I bounced three times at that angle. Next thing I knew, I was on the road, wobbled in the back for a moment, and then kept going.
I remember passing two cyclists a curve or two later - I was driving very slowly now, both because I realized I had no idea what lay ahead and because I was shaken up, plus I wasn't sure what damage had been done to the car - and one turned to look at me. I gave them both as wide a berth as I could, which is actually pretty normal, but I was thinking how they must be afraid of me if they heard any of that. I'm sure the sound carried through the gore. I mentally apologized to them for causing any concern and was soon at the top.
I was probably in a state of shock. I was pretty numb but my thoughts continued and my eyes were watchful, which is good, because I just kept going. I had the presence of mind to see the downside of the hill and check my brakes. I took note of the fact the car wasn't shimmying, that the tires felt ok - nothing flat - and that I had two warning lights on... hill assist and traction control. No engine lights. The only thing that told me something was damaged was the sensation that I was dragging a bumper or fender or something. It didn't sound serious, although in hindsight I probably should have stopped to make sure it wasn't falling off... but all I could think about was getting to safety. To me, safety was another half-hour away, out of the unknown area I was in. Not on the side of a gap that I had almost killed myself on.
Turns out it was the right front fender liner scraping the tire. I discovered this when I arrived at my destination a half-hour later, parked, and finally dared to look.
Damage estimates are less than I'd expected and frankly, the damage isn't nearly as severe as I'd expected, either. For the next two days I went through bouts of "I didn't die" immediately followed by "the ditch was kind of fun."
Then I was at work, talked to the insurance adjuster, and he told me a story of his own. I got off the phone, and didn't think much of it. My colleagues were out somewheres when out of the blue I began to sob. I felt it crashing down on me so I grabbed some tissues and hid in the server room. I sobbed uncontrollably for several minutes but eventually regained my composure, blew my nose, and ventured back out. I thought that would be the end of it, but it hasn't been. About once or twice a day, something will trigger it.
The other night my bowl of ice cream slipped. I kept it from spilling, but the fact I lost hold of it sent me over the edge. My heart began to race and I saw the guard rail all over again, heard the screeching. I cried for about a half hour.
For whatever reason, when these outbursts occur, I want to be in my car, and badly. I feel like it's my safety zone. Stupid, right? The same car I was in at the time, and I want to be in it? You'd think I'd want to avoid it! But I want to sit in it, touch it, make sure it's ok, be surrounded by it, hear its engine rumbling, change gears. I don't want to drive around any curves, especially to my left, but I know that'll pass eventually. I just feel like I /need/ to drive my car again. But, I was smart and deposited it at the body shop as soon as I could to avoid damaging it any further or taking unnecessary risks in case there was something wrong I didn't know about.
A friend pointed me toward PTSD. I do have some of the symptoms of this, but given it's been just under a week, I'm guessing these episodes will lessen and eventually fade. I didn't die, I wasn't even injured... and in fact, I drove away. The entire time, strangely, I knew I was safe and would be OK, even despite the grim realizations that something bad was about to happen and the thought I keep thinking over and over: I didn't die! But I still want my car back and left curves still make my stomach funky and my heart race a bit. Scuffing cart tires at work set my heart off and I have to hold myself in check. Slipping ice cream bowls. I even got set off a little bit by tossing an egg carton at the recycle bin and seeing it slide around the corner edge before falling in.
Was the event life-changing? Probably not in the grand scheme of things. I will certainly be far more cautious on unknown roads in the future. I always thought I was pretty cautious as it was, but it's possible I was less cautious simply because of what I drive, knowing how it usually handles so well. I know and knew that the best handling car in the world can't take sharp corners just willy nilly, but with the curves beforehand, it didn't occur to me there'd be such a sharp corner so close by. I guess another lesson is that if you don't know the road well, and you see a blind curve, assume it's a hairpin and slow the heck down even more.
But... I still want to drive that car. When I dropped it off, it felt like my hands and feet had been severed. It's an extension of my body now, and while I have been reacquainted with my old truck, it's not the same thing. The truck is separate from me. The car... well, let's put it this way. I know it was the car that hit the guardrail, but while it was all happening, it was I who was hitting it, even though I felt no actual pain and knew the car was around me. The car was me and I was it, getting through the worst and then limping away, proud to be resilient enough to do so after such a thing. Only now do I feel bad that it's damaged, a separate thing from myself. I want it back. I want to know it's ok. I want to feel safe in it again.
I didn't go over the cliff. The guard rail held. I didn't end up on my side in a ditch. I wasn't injured. The car will be repaired. I'll get it back in due time. It'll look fine and drive fine (although I am going to get new tires; I don't trust the current ones after skidding sideways on them).
But things could have gone horribly wrong up there, far worse than they did, at any point in that experience. I think that's why there's a part of me that is absolutely petrified and reacting to anything that reminds it of what might have been.
That's just going to take some time to get over, I know. I just hope I can keep it in check and only allow it to be totally nuts when I'm alone and able to hang over a sink while it pours out of my face. I like running water, it's comforting, always has been when I was that deeply saddened by something... usually a pet's death. I've always had this two-day delay before my emotions dare to surface over an event (save for death, that seems to come out pretty fast). I've read about this... it seems to be a survival instinct. Something bad happens, your mind has to deal with it first and keep you out of danger. Then you can feel. It's not a bad thing and probably has kept me safe many times. It's probably what makes me (usually) a very good driver... someone cuts me off, and my body does what it needs to do, it doesn't simply react and veer off the road. It probably kept me alive last weekend.
The emotions are tough. I'm glad I'm having them, though. They mean I survived.
~w
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