The Ultimate Saab Story.

Disclaimer: I’m writing this under the influence of mildly strong muscle relaxers, so while I’m aiming to be completely coherent in this post… even the best laid plans of mice and men go awry. So there. Bam, literary allusion. Now for the content.

If you're going to wreck your car, across the street from a hospital is the place to do it.

I was involved in a serious car crash on Tuesday. I was headed up an on ramp on Walnut Grove across from Baptist Hospital, traveling approximately 40 mph towards the I-240E exit. Orange construction cones thinned our already tight lane to an uncomfortably tight squeeze — causing the drivers ahead of me to tap their brakes cautiously. An SUV 2 cars ahead of me took a yield sign as a sign to stop, and 2 seconds later, I collided with the Jeep in front of me, which I then slid underneath. Our two cars pushed the Pontiac in front of us into that first SUV.

Mea culpa... mea maxima culpa.

I might wax poetic about this later, but for now, I’ll just list the facts:

Totally my fault.

No, I was not on my phone.

No, I was not messing with my iPod.

No, I was not voluntarily distracted in any way.

No one was injured at the scene. No scratches, no broken bones, not even a bruise.

Memphis PD and Memphis Fire Department were incredibly helpful and wonderfully kind. Always say “yes sir” to your police officers & firemen. Remember who you’re talking to. They arrived quickly & took control of the situation. Love them.

I received a ticket for failure to maintain a safe distance. Point very well taken.

Always buckle up, always always always. I look at these pictures and realize how ridiculously fortunate I was, how I had a band of angels working overtime keeping me safe. Everyone who arrived on scene to assist asked, “Where’s the driver of that car?” (Pointing to my Saab) I would sheepishly raise my hand and speak up, “Here I am. That’s my car.” Cue looks of horror/awe/disbelief. No one could fathom how I was able to simply walk away from such a horrific scene. I spoke up every time, in something of a shock-induced stupor, “That’s God. You need proof? Look at me. Look at my car. It was God who kept me safe.”

I was jarred, but calm. You could probably get away with callin’ me serene. The other fender benders I’ve been involved in led to proper tear fests. I break down at the drop of a hat – I’m a free crier. Have always been, it’s in my blood. This time, after being helped out of my car (not that I required the help — I was just stunned from the airbags deploying & wasn’t 100% sure of what had just happened) I stood back, muttered to myself for a moment, checked my pocket for my phone, and dialed the first number that came to mind.

“Daddy?”
“Hey Aimee Cait, I’m in a meeting, what’s going on?”
“Daddy… I’ve been in a, um, a wreck.”
“Okay, sweetie. Are you alright?”
“Yessir, so’s everybody else. We’re all okay.”
“Good. Okay, where are you?”
“I’m on Walnut Grove, across from the hospital, facin’ the I-240E on ramp. Daddy… I wedged my car beneath a Jeep.”
“That’s close, I’m 10 minutes away. Are the police there?”
“Yessir, they’re here. I’m waiting for you to hand out insurance information, though.”
“Okay, darlin, I’ll be there in just a minute. You sit tight. Go talk to them, make friends, make sure everybody’s okay… Wedged? Aimee Cait, that’s very Nascar of you.”

Mr. Alfred was the driver in the Jeep. Sit for a moment and try to imagine how I felt as I exited my vehicle and looked up at this tiny old man, unable to hop down from his seat because it was too high off the ground. His son-in-law came and chatted with him for a few minutes as his father-in-law sat and absorbed what had just happened. Alfred had had knee replacement surgery a few weeks ago — he couldn’t just jump down to the ground for fear of agitating his knee, which was still healing. This man, an absolute image of dignity and grace, found himself clinging to his son-in-law’s shoulders as he was piggy-back’ed to safety on the side of the road. Cue me whimpering in shame.

Alfred and his son-in-law were so kind. After we had all established that there were no injuries between the drivers/passengers, we began to chat, albeit tentatively. I’m sitting there praying: “God, please don’t let them be angry. I know they’ll probably be angry. But please give me grace. Don’t let ‘em kill me.” The first words directly to me from Alfred were: “Well, your shoes are sure cute.” I paused, looked down, examined my red patent leather flats, and nervously said, “Thank you, sir. Picked ‘em out special for today. See, they’re my car-wreckin’ shoes.” He smiled. Instant BFFs.

Signing autographs. Handing out my insurance information.

Alfred joked about taking me on a date. Dad showed up, lookin’ the part in a black trenchcoat, suit and tie, and he assumed control of the situation. However, I’m gonna go ahead and put it out there that I handled this potentially catastrophic event with ease. The policemen were very helpful. They were like little boys, though, ooh’ing and ahh’ing at the positioning of the cars. They could hardly believe the angle the Jeep was at. (I know I’ve just ended this sentence with a preposition — I’m on Skelaxin, I don’t care.) The last time they saw a scene like this, it was with Hot Wheels, which they made a point to tell me. I’m sure they might have been a bit more cross had the scene not been so ridiculous. I mean, my car… beneath Alfred’s Jeep. No one was hurt, so laughing was fair play.

This is easily the greatest accomplishment of my life.

I need to go ahead and quit typing for now, I feel sleepy in the nicest way.

xxAimee Cait