(I posted this on Facebook in early January):
The drive to Stephen's took 30 minutes. By the time we arrived we had decided: we would go for it. It felt like the right decision to both of us. We said our goodbyes and headed home.
Considering the frigid temperatures, the roads were in good condition. Dry, salted. We saw no wrecks. No cars slipping. No one was even driving slower than normal down the dark, curvy West Virginia freeway.
We texted our friends, asking them to turn on the heat in our house. We would be home in about 4 hours. "Drive safely," was the response. And we did. We always do.
But that doesn't matter on black ice.
Suddenly we were slipping. The right guard rail was in front of us. Then the left. Jon had no control over the steering. Just as we came to a stop, the van exploded. Glass breaking. Crunching. I felt my spine wriggle back and forth like a snake. I distinctly remember thinking that it would snap if the movement didn't stop soon.
In my mind everything went silent for a moment. The first sound I remember is Jon's voice: "I'm so sorry, Meg. I'm so sorry! We shouldn't have done this. I'm so sorry." Then it was my babies crying in the back seat. I'm still shaking as I type this. And trying not to cry. I'm not an emotional person. I don't cry. But it's been three days and I still shake and hold back tears when I remember.
Because it could have been worse. It SHOULD have been worse. How did we walk away from that with nothing but a sore back (me) and a scrape to the ankle (Jon)?
When I was younger one of my favorite Christmas songs was by the country group Alabama. I later dismissed it as a hokey, emotionally manipulative song (which it is, honestly), but now I can't get in out of my head. There's a line that says, "I believe there are angels among us...in our darkest hours." It was dark. So dark. But someone was watching over us.
The car that hit us was tiny. Just about as small as you can get. There was a semi just a bit behind it. If it had been the semi smashing into us at 70+ mph I wouldn't be shopping for a new van. I would be planning a funeral for my husband. Or my baby. Or both.
The impact was at the perfect spot. Just a few feet further back and Elise would have taken the brunt of the impact. Or Catherine. They would have almost certainly been injured.
And then there were the people who pulled over to help. A woman, four months pregnant, who was so worried about our kids. A man who rushed over and starting giving directions. We were in shock, not capable of doing much more than calling 911 and comforting our kids. "Are you hurt? Can you get the van off the road?" It didn't even occur to me that it could happen again: that someone else could come around that corner and slam into us as we sat there in the middle of the road, helpless.
The van wouldn't move. He quickly herded us all out of the van. It was 10 degrees outside. He led us to his truck, where his wife and two kids made room for us. They were from Ontario (of course it would be Canadians), on their way home from Christmas in Florida. For probably an hour the kids and I sat in their warm truck while Jon dealt with the rescue workers. The man stayed with Jon the entire time.
Once again, it was the perfect situation. The family had two kids, 9 and 7. They were happy, silly, energetic. And they each had a Nintendo DS. It was just what my kids needed to distract themselves from the shock. Only Elise and Aaron seemed upset. Elise snuggled against my chest and wouldn't move. Aaron mourned the loss of the van deeply. He asked a thousand questions. Then he came up with a solution: "I get the cactus in Maryland. It will poke the black ice." He seemed content after that.
This family. They opened their truck to us. They filled up their truck bed with our belongings. They drove us to a hotel. They came inside with us to make sure we were settled before they left. I cried as I thanked them. Words are just not enough. I have no idea what would have happened if they had not been there. They were our angels.
We drove home in our 15 passenger rental van and arrived to a hot dinner and brownies from our angel friends. They helped us unload, listened to our stories and cried a little bit with us.
It's been three days now. Still not sure if we'll be buying a new van or driving back four hours to pick up a repaired van. The kids seem fine: it's a cool story to tell their friends. Jon & I are more solemn about it. We realize how much we could have lost. And we are grateful. Grateful for the miracle of walking away from the accident. For warm trucks. For spaghetti and brownies. For all our angels.
How we started our trip:
How we ended it:
The rental place had no minivans.
15 passenger vans are not as roomy or as comfortable as I'd formerly imagined.
Catherine was fine with the whole arrangement.
There were many selfies taken:
The drive home was a little nerve-wracking. Not only were we still in shock and nervous about the ice, we were also driving an unfamiliar, unwieldy mini-bus. Plus it was still so cold outside that our wiper fluid was frozen, so our drive looked like this:
Our box of Christmas gifts was shoved under Elise's feet, very close to the impact area.
Thankfully, poor Luna was the worst casualty!
Eventually we got the word: our van was totaled. It would have been about $15,000 to repair. Jon spent a lot of time searching for a suitable replacement before finding one in Long Island. We hired a babsitter, made the 4.5 hour drive to a sketchy car place, signed some papers, then drove another 4.5 hours home. The road conditions were a little scary--very similar to the night of our wreck. We drove slowly, carefully. And we made it home safely, new-to-us van in tow:
Meet the new van. Basically the same as the old van.
How do we feel about the new van? Basically, it's a wash. It was a repossession and hadn't been well-cared for. It doesn't run nearly as smoothly as ours did, despite being the same age. It's a bit more worn down, more beat up.
But...it has AUTOMATIC DOORS! How did I live without them for so long?! Never, ever going back to manual doors. It also has a spot for an 8th seat, which is something we knew we'd want eventually. So, overall, a wash.
We have so much to be grateful for. My back was fine after getting a massage. Our kids sometimes still get nervous going around fast corners, but are otherwise unfazed. Insurance covered the cost of the van almost exactly. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat, but things didn't turn out too terribly in the end.
Black ice, people. It's no joke.
2 comments:
SO SCARY and sad still!
I'm so glad that you were all okay. So frightening to think of what might have been... one of those things that seems like it happens to other people. I'm so glad nobody was hurt, and so glad for the angels who helped you.
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