Tuesday, December 3, 2013

It took a decade of driving, and I would’ve preferred it happen on any other day than Thanksgiving Eve, but I finally got into a car accident. The overwhelming feeling I had in the immediate aftermath was relief, and it wasn’t because all parties were unhurt. Certainly this was the best possible outcome and, in and of itself, cause for thanksgiving. The real reason I felt free and clear? This accident was long overdue, and it was like I had finally paid the piper, probability be damned.

You may be thinking to yourself, “Nobody’s ever owed a car accident.” And the odds are firmly against fender-benders. I don’t know if it’s simply a function of the sheer length of time that’s elapsed since I started driving, or if it’s the handful of close calls I’ve had in this ten-year tenure–sometimes by my hand, sometimes not–but there’s always been a balance hanging over my head. Then, right after the moment of impact, the amount due was zeroed out.

Watching the procession of police cruisers, fire truck, and ambulance pull onto the scene was a spectacle. I gather the full lineup appears at every accident, as a precaution? Now I’m in the thick of the claims process, with my chosen auto body shop calling for parts, and because the incident was by and large my fault, I’m in search of a lawyer as well. With everything else going on, I had to chalk this up as yet another thing on the list to resolve. This is the deep, dark part of the story, and there’s nowhere to go but onward, always forward, into the West.