Earlier this week Zeb and I were driving peaceably along, enjoying our day. We had been to the elbow doctor (don't judge, it hurts) and to Sam's. We were loaded up with prescription pain killers and groceries.
Due to Almost Isaac, the younger kids were being released from school a few hours early, and Big Z and I were on our way to get them.
So there we were, cruising down 319 when the two cars ahead of us slowed and stopped. Being the consciencious driver that I am, I slowed and stopped as well. Somehow or another, the driver behind me didn't get the memo. You know, the memo about slowing and stopping.
She didn't slow.
She didn't stop.
She never even touched the brakes.
And we had set such a good example for her.
Honestly, I didn't even know what hit me.
As any good blogger would do, even slightly dazed with pounding head and aching neck, I took a picture. Or three.
Oh, you'd like to see? Ok... Here's what hit me. Here's what chained the dull ache to my neck and my head. Here's what makes me want to eat painkillers like they're skittles. Here it is.
BOOM! There it is.
If you look closely, you'll see that both her airbags deployed- even her steering wheel tried to slow her down.
I'm thinking she may need a new hood. And possibly a new "everything that goes under" it.
My van looked pretty amazing, if you ask me...
The damage is worse than it appears. My inner bumper - the one that's not plastic- is completely bent up into my floorboard, leaving a warped floor and zero protection if we're so rudely interrupted again. The little hole you see at the bottom of my back hatch invites carbon monoxide to join the war in the back seat; and as much as I'd like the two littles to hold it down a bit back there, I don't think CM poisoning is a viable solution.
Both the insurance adjuster and the guy who owns the body shop are quite impressed with how well my car held up- especially since we were hit sooo hard.
Thankfully, we didn't barrel into the car in front of us- who just happened to be my sister-in-law. She saw the whole thing in her side mirror and was braced and ready to join the party. All things considered, I know it's a miracle we didn't hit her- and I don't use the M word loosely here, folks.
We were both buckled up. It's the law. Zeb hit his head on the back of the passenger seat and then whipped back and knocked himself on the back of his own seat. I hit my head pretty hard on the back of my headrest.
Yep, it hurt pretty dang bad. But I didn't say the first ugly word. Cross my heart.
Within minutes there must have been 30 people on the scene and they were all more than helpful. It was dry as a bone when the lady hit me and then- as if the heavens were shedding the tears I so valiantly held at bay- it started to POUR. I mean POUR. And I had just washed my hair. Errrr.
It could have been 1,000 times worse. Seriously. Other than being painfully inconvenienced, everyone is fine. Sore and achy, but fine.
Although my body is a bit sore, my faith in friendship and small town camaraderie is stronger than ever. Our county's service workers were helpful and diligent. Friends and family showed up to check on me and see if we needed anything. Even my insurance agent offered to pick me up and take me home.
Gotta love small towns!
Gotta love small towns!
On a side note, I am very thankful that Isaac didn't rear his ugly head here, and my heart goes out to those affected by his wrath.