The Collision Complication
I was driving to work last Friday when it hit me. On this occasion I am not talking about an epiphany, I am talking about being physically struck. "It" can refer to any noun but this time it refers to an airbag.
It was a gloomy morning with the sun still rising and failing to make much of impression through the December rain. 'Close to Me' by Ellie Goulding, Diplo and Swae Lee was playing on the radio as I turned the corner to join the dual carriageway as I do everyday. It seemed to be quite busy, probably due to the poor weather, and the headlights refracting off the rain made visibility poor. I had to really concentrate to confirm it was safe to pull onto the road and eventually I concluded it was. My foot pushed down on the pedal and the car began to accelerate. WHAM!
"WHAM" is never a good noise to hear when you are in a car. I sat for a moment inspecting my surroundings. My car was now motionless on the edge of the dual carriageway with other vehicles having to avoid it. Both airbags had deployed and were now dangling out of the car like the guts of a slaughtered animal. A white gas lingered in the air, complete with an acidic smell which probed my nostrils, unleashed by the airbags. Through the cracked windscreen I could see a car a short distance in front of me with it's back window missing and the back of the car looking severely crumpled.
Part of my brain told me what I should have been feeling. I'd just been in an accident, a relatively high impact one too, and I should have been in shock. Everyone knows that is how you should feel. I'm not sure if it was because I had not had a chance to panic but I soon realised I didn't feel in anyway shocked or stressed.Through the rain and the cracked windscreen I could just about make out a figure emerging from the other vehicle and realised I should probably join them.
The driver of the other car was fine, a bit shocked but in one piece. The police were called to help push my car onto the verge as a queue was already building up and I called the nearest parent to come and sort things out. I stood in the rain with a stranger as we inspected our damaged cars. The front of mine was fairly crumpled with shards of her window on the bonnet and the windscreen cracked from the impact of the airbags. It was obvious to me quite quickly that I would never drive the car again.
I've been asked plenty of questions from people trying to understand what happened. Did the other driver have their lights on? Were they stopped at the end of the slip road? The thing is that I can't answer any of them because I have no idea. I didn't know there was another car there until after I had hit it. My conclusion is that the other driver was being particularly hesitant at pulling out, perhaps they were even stationary. I should have seen the other car wherever it was positioned though and on any other day I would have.
Eventually the car was towed home before being picked up a few days later to be dissected. I felt strangely emotional when I was removing my possession from the car. It felt dead with no lights working and the airbags hanging out. It was just a car, a machine to get me from one place to another and I'd only owned it just over a year. Yet it felt like so much more than that. Sitting in it day after day going from place to place made it feel like more than just a possession.
There was also the fact that it had saved my life. My Renault Twingo had been a reliable car but I never thought I'd have to rely on it in this scenario. The front of the car took the worst of the impact and the combination of the airbag and the seatbelt stopped me from facing any serious injury. I've never been in a situation before where I genuinely could have died without the safety equipment. It's a new feeling and I can't decide whether I like it or not.
I did not escape completely unharmed however. As the day progressed pain began to emerge from more and more places. The top of my right leg hurt and my lower gum was really painful, presumably from the impact with the airbag. This was nothing compared to the pain that I felt across my chest from the seatbelt, the area of my body which took the brunt of the impact. I don't think I've ever been injured in the chest before and it turns out it's rubbish. Movement of any sort causes pain, including breathing which is frustratingly not something you can avoid.
The pain did begin to reduce but a week after the crash I the worst pain yet began, in my sternum. This was odd because it hadn't hurt all week yet was now more painful than anywhere in my body had been. It turns out this is due to 'costochondritis' which is where the cartilage that connects your ribs to your sternum becomes inflamed. Indeed, the area from my right nipple to my neck is one large bruise.
Being in continuous pain does not help one to keep upbeat, especially combined with the fact that one has to organise the old car being taken away and buying a new one, lifts to and from work from whichever family member of colleague is feeling helpful as well as the usual stresses of working with children who have special needs. I feel quite proud of myself to have managed to keep going and not completely lose it this week.
Despite the stress and the pain though I still feel thankful. Thankful to modern safety technology allowing me to still be here. No matter how bad life gets, it's still better than not being alive at all.
It was a gloomy morning with the sun still rising and failing to make much of impression through the December rain. 'Close to Me' by Ellie Goulding, Diplo and Swae Lee was playing on the radio as I turned the corner to join the dual carriageway as I do everyday. It seemed to be quite busy, probably due to the poor weather, and the headlights refracting off the rain made visibility poor. I had to really concentrate to confirm it was safe to pull onto the road and eventually I concluded it was. My foot pushed down on the pedal and the car began to accelerate. WHAM!
"WHAM" is never a good noise to hear when you are in a car. I sat for a moment inspecting my surroundings. My car was now motionless on the edge of the dual carriageway with other vehicles having to avoid it. Both airbags had deployed and were now dangling out of the car like the guts of a slaughtered animal. A white gas lingered in the air, complete with an acidic smell which probed my nostrils, unleashed by the airbags. Through the cracked windscreen I could see a car a short distance in front of me with it's back window missing and the back of the car looking severely crumpled.
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| An artist's impression of the incident |
The driver of the other car was fine, a bit shocked but in one piece. The police were called to help push my car onto the verge as a queue was already building up and I called the nearest parent to come and sort things out. I stood in the rain with a stranger as we inspected our damaged cars. The front of mine was fairly crumpled with shards of her window on the bonnet and the windscreen cracked from the impact of the airbags. It was obvious to me quite quickly that I would never drive the car again.
I've been asked plenty of questions from people trying to understand what happened. Did the other driver have their lights on? Were they stopped at the end of the slip road? The thing is that I can't answer any of them because I have no idea. I didn't know there was another car there until after I had hit it. My conclusion is that the other driver was being particularly hesitant at pulling out, perhaps they were even stationary. I should have seen the other car wherever it was positioned though and on any other day I would have.
Eventually the car was towed home before being picked up a few days later to be dissected. I felt strangely emotional when I was removing my possession from the car. It felt dead with no lights working and the airbags hanging out. It was just a car, a machine to get me from one place to another and I'd only owned it just over a year. Yet it felt like so much more than that. Sitting in it day after day going from place to place made it feel like more than just a possession.
There was also the fact that it had saved my life. My Renault Twingo had been a reliable car but I never thought I'd have to rely on it in this scenario. The front of the car took the worst of the impact and the combination of the airbag and the seatbelt stopped me from facing any serious injury. I've never been in a situation before where I genuinely could have died without the safety equipment. It's a new feeling and I can't decide whether I like it or not.
I did not escape completely unharmed however. As the day progressed pain began to emerge from more and more places. The top of my right leg hurt and my lower gum was really painful, presumably from the impact with the airbag. This was nothing compared to the pain that I felt across my chest from the seatbelt, the area of my body which took the brunt of the impact. I don't think I've ever been injured in the chest before and it turns out it's rubbish. Movement of any sort causes pain, including breathing which is frustratingly not something you can avoid.
The pain did begin to reduce but a week after the crash I the worst pain yet began, in my sternum. This was odd because it hadn't hurt all week yet was now more painful than anywhere in my body had been. It turns out this is due to 'costochondritis' which is where the cartilage that connects your ribs to your sternum becomes inflamed. Indeed, the area from my right nipple to my neck is one large bruise.
Being in continuous pain does not help one to keep upbeat, especially combined with the fact that one has to organise the old car being taken away and buying a new one, lifts to and from work from whichever family member of colleague is feeling helpful as well as the usual stresses of working with children who have special needs. I feel quite proud of myself to have managed to keep going and not completely lose it this week.
Despite the stress and the pain though I still feel thankful. Thankful to modern safety technology allowing me to still be here. No matter how bad life gets, it's still better than not being alive at all.
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