Dave was my boss at the flower shop I delivered for. He'd called me in, said we were swamped, asked if I could help run some extra deliveries. Said I could use his Jeep, since the other kid was using the van. It was old hat to me by now; grab the addresses, plot them out on the map. Piece of cake.
Late morning, easy run. I was smiling, listening to Howard Stern talking about something or other as I cruised down one of those Jersey highways that wasn't really a highway, just a regular road that the state was too lazy to name. The first drop was at an honest-to-God nunnery, and that was hilarious to me.
But I hadn't been paying attention, and I'd been speeding. Because that's what I did. I was young and cocky and careless, and I had everything under control. Maybe I'd passed it? I probably passed it. I hit the left-side blinker, keeping my eyes peeled for a good street to turn around on. My eyes drifted to the rear view, taking note but not paying too much mind to the red Jetta behind me.
And there it was. Right there on the right.
I jammed on the brakes, flicked the turn signal. A little corner of my mind told me 45mph was too fast to cut the wheel, but, I mean, I was already doing it. May as well, yeah?
I felt the Jeep slide. That's the shitty thing about these highways, all the gravel on the sides. I could hear the grind of the wheels as they tried to find a grip, as my foot pumped the brakes to try to get a little traction. And with a crunch, I felt the Jetta hit me in the sweet spot, right in front of the rear wheel well.
I could feel the car. It's an odd sensation, suddenly becoming aware of your vehicle as if it were your own body, translating each little detail of your own sensory input into how the car is moving, what its angle is, how strong its momentum. The slide became a push, and in half a breath's time, I realized something.
This was out of my control. Nothing I did would matter at this point; the situation was out of my hands. Everything I'd learned up until this point said I should find this moment terrifying, that my heart should beat out of my chest as the laws of physics took over. But I felt free. Relaxed. Calm. I felt my hands slip from the steering wheel, I felt myself relax in my seat. I felt the corners of my mouth curl up because hey. A bang, not a whimper.
Time didn't slow down like the movies or books tell you. It was all in real time, the jerk as the Jeep tipped, the crunching of metal as the world spun, the lurching thump as the car landed back on its tires. In an instant, the world had exploded in rose petals and glass.
I blinked a couple of times, staring at how the windshield had folded inward, aiming a vicious point at my throat. There was a silence in the air, a tranquil quiet tickled with the windchime tinkle of broken glass every time I moved. My left hand hurt, but I couldn't see why.
Slowly, carefully, I pulled the pack of cigarettes from my pocket, dug out my lighter. With the shhhink of my Zippo, I took my first deep breath. My thumb found the seatbelt catch, my fingers tried the door. When it didn't budge, I found myself chuckling as I shifted my weight to kick it open.
And the chuckling didn't stop as I got a good look at Dave's Jeep. The entire driver's side was smashed in from the roll. If I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt, the windshield would have taken my head off. If my arms had been on the steering wheel, one or both would have been crushed in the crash. I ran my fingers through my hair, watching the broken glass and flower petals fall to the ground.
The Jetta's front corner was looking a little worse for the wear, and the driver had his head down, his breathing ragged and strained. "Smoke?" I said with a grin. He shook his head as he looked up. I could see the abrasions on the insides of his arms from the airbag. It wasn't until then that I noticed the blood dripping from my fingers.
"Did you... flip?"
"Yep."
The rest is kind of hazy. The look on the paramedics' faces when they saw Dave's car, the disappointment when they realized I only had a couple of minor cuts on my left hand. The cops asking questions. The tow truck bringing me back to town.
I had called Dave, my voice shaking as I apologized. "I'm sorry, Dave, I'm so sorry."
"I know, Raoul. If I didn't think you were, I'd have fired you by now."
Good guy, that Dave. Turns out he had good insurance, too. As for me, there were still deliveries to be made. He'd offered to give me the afternoon off, but I refused.
As I loaded up the van that afternoon, Pavel and Pericles came running from the house across the street, hitting me up for a ride to class. They hopped in, and as I pulled away from the curb, Pavel pointed to the gauze wrapped around my hand.
"What happened?"
"Flipped a car over this morning."
Silence.
Then Per, shouting from the back. "LET ME OUT."
I laughed as I headed down to College Ave.
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