Impact

I heard that distinct screeching sound that car wheels make when brakes are thrust upon them with the full weight of the driver. And then I felt the impact and heard nothing.

I opened my eyes and saw my car's windshield covered in a pattern of spiderwebbing. I spit the safety glass out of my mouth. I wiped it from my face and chest. I looked up; the roof was pushed in to within an inch of my head. And then I looked to the right, where the front passenger seat should have been. It was gone, replaced by my car's right door and more broken glass.

To my left, in the fast lane, there was a strange absence of cars. I pried open my door and attempted to  retrieve my cell phone from my purse in the back seat. It took me several times to grasp it; that's how much I was shaking. That's when I noticed the truck, now perpendicular to me and upside down. The driver crawled out of the crushed cab. He was bleeding. The witnesses told me that the truck flew over one lane of traffic, turned upside down and slammed into me. I saw nothing.

I called Dave. No answer at home. No answer on his cell. Again. Again. Again. I called my brother. No answer at home. Or on his cell. Or on my SIL's cell. I left my brother a message: I'm fine. I've been in a car accident. I can't find Dave. Please track him down.

Dave called back. My eight calls to him had come while he was in the shower. He drove to San Jose to pick me up. First Responders showed up, police, fire men. AAA towed my car away. We picked up a rental car on our drive back north. I went to the Emergency Room. In the waiting room I emptied my purse and briefcase of more glass. Except for a headache and the pains I envision similar to being checked in hockey, I'm fine.

There was an angel sitting on my shoulder Tuesday morning. That much I know.