I was leaving work yesterday to run home and grab some dinner before having to come back for student ministry night. I was sitting at a red light in my ’92 Crown Victoria, when all of a sudden a felt a really hard BUMP and was jarred in my seat. Driving the old clunker that I do, I immediately thought, “Good Lord, the engine just fell out!” Then I looked up at my rearview mirror and saw a vehicle that seemed to look closer than it should. That’s when I realized, “I just got hit.” Not only did the car behind me run into me, but he seemed to be PUSHING on my car! I bore down on the brake and put on the emergency brake pedal. When I decided that I wasn’t going any further forward, I got out and walked back to the other car, a cute compact car with the engine revving, seemingly against my back bumper. It was like a dog pushing against a horse. I approached the driver’s window and saw an elderly man in the driver’s seat with his wife in the passenger’s seat. He was calling something out to me, but his window was up, so I couldn’t quite make it out. What was he saying? “Buy soot!” “Fry boot!” What was he saying? I opened the door and heard a clear “My foot!” (Turns out he didn’t want me to buy soot.)
He was telling me in his “old-man-I’m-panicked” sort of way that his left foot had slipped and was stuck underneath the brake pedal, while his right foot was still on the brake pedal trying to brake. I reached down, grabbed hold of his foot (after surmising that he was not injured, but only panicky), and moved it from behind the brake pedal. Oh did I mention? I first made sure his car was in “park”.
I thought I’d be cordial. “Hi, how you doin’? Are you okay?” They were both fine, but I grew increasingly confident that this gentleman had no business driving a car. And I hope that if necessary, somebody tells me the same thing when I get to that point in life. And then provides me with a chauffered luxury vehicle.
His wife seemed to have her head on a bit straighter and was able to give direction to her dearly beloved. Why she wasn’t driving, I’ll never know. So, I got his insurance information, checked my bumper and his fender and found that there was no apparent damage to either, and went on my way. Actually, an un-uniformed official of some type showed up soon after the bump, made sure we were okay, ensured we were exchanging information, and asked if we wanted a uniformed officer. I told him I thought we were fine, and that we’d be done and gone shortly. He then left. On the way home, I began to imagine that my neck was a little sore. And I began to wonder, “Maybe I should have called the police.” and “A helicopter ride would have been cool.” and “I’ve never lit a flare.”
So, that was my slice of drama on the road yesterday. And not that I wasn’t appreciative before, but I definitely was glad for being the larger car.
When its time for my next vehicle, I’ll likely forego the car lot and head to the army surplus store.