Collision

Tonight, a friend and I were talking in her car, parked next to her church, when we heard a sound like the collision of glass and steel just behind us. My friend, opening her door, asked if I thought we should look, though she was already getting out.

"Yeah," I said, following her. We turned to walk down the gravel drive and saw instantly that what we heard was, in fact, the collision of glass and steel, right into a telephone pole. Someone had crashed their car.

A man was staggering out of the driver's side, and my friend called out something to the effect of "Are you okay?"

The man answered that he was, and again when I asked him the same question. He was probably a twenty-something, from his shirt we could see he was an employee at a local store, and it became clear that he was drunk. He seemed physically unhurt, fortunately. My friend immediately dialed 911--in the meantime, the man asked if I could help push his car out of the way. My friend asked, after being asked by the emergency department, if the car was in flames--no, it wasn't, though I told the man that we should probably not try to move it just then. He asked who my friend was talking to--I said 911. He was upset, shaking his head. He kicked the fallen-off bumper. My friend asked again, "is everything all right?"

He didn't really respond, so my friend said, "Your head?"

He said "No, I'm going to jail."

All she could really say was sorry, and she did. He then asked if he could use the phone. She handed him her phone; he called a family member or some other relation. I got a good look at the car, which was totaled. The passenger side had collided with the telephone pole--the window was completely shattered, the wheel had basically fallen off, the engine was visible and smoking. It looked in general like twisted black piece of scrap metal on the one side. The edge of the sidewalk was covered in glass shards. If anyone had been in the passenger seat, I'm sure they would have been killed.

The police showed up, and I told them that we had been sitting there, heard the crash, and came to see what happened. A policeman told us to wait a moment while they spoke to him. A minute later, he came back over and told us we weren't needed as witnesses since the man admitted to being the driver. We were free to go without giving information, so we did.

While we were waiting though, we saw them do his sobriety test. I felt ashamed to be watching that.

The role of chance in the situation scares me a bit--first off, that there was no one else in the car and that he wasn't injured. Second, I thought about the fact that if he had misjudged his turn or swerved or what-have-you about 3 yards over, he could have pulled into the lot and crashed right into the rear end of my friend's car. But most of all, it just seems fortuitous that we were right there, to see if he was alright and to call 911. If we hadn't been, I don't know how he would have acted--probably would have tried to move the car, as he was doing, and when he realized he couldn't, I can't say what he would've done. I can't help thinking that our location at that time was oddly well-planned.

Evidently, according to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, 17,941 people died in 2006 in "alcohol-related" collisions--40% of all traffic deaths. I suppose that statistic is convincing, but a little more personally convincing is the twisted-up car and shattered glass on the sidewalk I saw tonight. Cars are dangerous enough on their own, without adding alcohol. This guy was more than lucky.

I've read somewhere that the key to compassion is feeling pathos for someone even when their misfortune is their own doing. Tonight certainly made me think of that. Drunk driving is unbelievably stupid, like walking through a crowded room swinging a steak knife--but this man was breaking down on the sidewalk because he knew that he screwed up. I can practically see and feel the crash in my head, and the anxiety of getting out of the car, not knowing what to do.

Keep him in your thoughts and prayers. I hope that things work out for him, and that he never gets into a car as or with a drunk driver again.