Bad Ending

I had a terrible ending to a rough, not so fun summer.

On Thursday morning, I was completely packed and set to head off to New York. I was driving alone so that I could visit a friend along the way. I left at about 9:30 and headed into Wisconsin. Near Menomonie, I hit my first patch of construction. They were painting a new stripe on the right shoulder and were also filling up cracks with tar. Because of this, everyone had to merge out of the right lane. I was already in the left lane and a car in the right lane merged in front of me. I slowed down to give them some room and when I saw their brake lights on, I started to slow down even more. Turns out that I didn't slow down enough. I didn't even think to swerve into the right lane where I wouldn't have done any damage at all. Instead, I hit the back of their car. My airbags came flying out and scared the bejesus out of me. Basically, airbags have gunpowder packed into them so that they can come out quickly. My airbag came out too quickly and the sides of the airbag ended up ripping so that the red-hot gunpowder could shoot out of the holes. It ended up burning my arm and both of my hands.

Smoke continued to come out of what looked like behind the steering wheel so I panicked thinking that the engine might be on fire. I pulled over to the shoulder and jumped out of the car as fast as I could, forgetting that I had unbuttoned my jeans earlier in the trip to give myself more breathing room. The construction workers and the passengers in the other car got a free screening to Sarah's underwear show.

I ran back to the other car to make sure they were all okay and once I found out that they were fine and that their car didn't have too much damage, I went back to look at mine and burst into tears. Smoke was still coming out of the car and the passenger's airbag actually ended up shattering the windshield. Both headlights were broken and there was a huge hole in the front bumper. So much for driving to New York.

While I was looking for my insurance info, I called my dad and talked to the first cop to get there. He was very nice to me and understood why I was incredibly upset. I told him that I had to be to NY in a few days and it was going to be hard without a car. Even the construction workers came over to make sure I was okay. I felt like such a tool.

After filling out the report, the state trooper pulled up and the first thing he said to me was, "You know, if you were 4-5 car lengths behind them like you're supposed to be, this wouldn't have happened." Thanks, jackass. I wasn't following too closely. I just didn't expect traffic to go from 50 to 0 within seconds. He told me that I would probably be getting a ticket in the mail and not to ignore it. Apparently he thought I was a dumb ass.

The other car was fine enough to drive away, but I had to wait for a tow truck to come get me. I got in the cab with him and he just sat there silent. I'm sure he didn't know what to say to me, especially considering that I was still hysterical at this point. On the way to the towing place, we passed by the construction workers that had been talking to me earlier (and were already finished with construction where I was and had moved on to a different job). They all waved at me. Big loser...

While waiting for my mom to come get me, I looked at the damage with a mechanic. He ran up an estimate for me...more than my car was worth at this point. Once my mom got there, we had to get all of my things out of my car and move them to her car and she drove me home. I cried the whole way.

The solution to my problem lied in the fact that my dad was planning on getting a new car anyway. Fortunately, he gave me his car so that I would have one. While I can't complain (because I'm damn lucky to have a car at this point), driving my dad's old car is definitely a step backwards from my car. It has 126,000 miles on it, no CD player, a really touchy brake pedal, and a nice dent in the fender. Definitely an accountant's car.

Considering that my parents were now terrified to let me drive myself out to NY, my dad insisted that he drive with me. That means that instead of driving to Indiana, visiting my friend for a day, and driving the rest of the way another day, I'd have to make the trip without stopping. I was (and still am) bummed out that I didn't get to visit my friend, but I guess I didn't have a choice.

So my dad and I ended up leaving MN for the second time on Friday afternoon after he got home from work. My dad stayed awake the whole time and drove 80% of the time. It makes me feel guilty, but he insists on driving and I don't feel like arguing with him...except when he started to drift off and ended up swerving and slamming on the brakes. I had to drive for a while after that.

I made it to NYMC at 1:30 on Saturday afternoon. Only 19 1/2 hours. Only. At least I made it alive and without hurting myself this time. Dammit...