Dark Clouds

Heading north, she knew the road ahead was long. It would be at least a 20-hour drive; but she was determined to go straight through. It had been too long since she’d seen her family and friends. The time was now, the truck was pointed north. She was going home.

When she first saw the dark, rolling clouds and thought, “They seem like they’re heading right for me.” She looked to her left, and saw the traffic flowing by, the bright headlights blinding her eyes. She looked to the right and saw cars and trucks jamming on their brakes, the red lights flickering off and on like lighters in a dark concert hall. She turned the music down a little; she’d been blasting a mix of the Indigo Girls, Melissa Etheridge, Sinead O’Connor, and Tracy Chapman, plus a little Heart, too.

She tried to focus on the glistening pavement ahead of her, but it kept disappearing. She wondered how much longer it would take for this traffic and bad weather to clear up.

Again, she looked at the ominous sky, and thought, “It’s getting worse, this is really going to delay my arrival home.” She looked to her left, and caught a glimpse of the guardrails, some of them were rows of dented metal, and some of them were concrete. She muttered, “I sure wouldn’t want to bounce off of one of those.” She looked to her right, and shuddered at the sight of the 18-wheeler, whose hulking size seemed like it could swallow her tiny pickup truck whole.

She turned her attention back to the road ahead. Windswept rain pummeled the truck; the windshield wipers were on high speed, but they seemed bent, and unable to keep up with the deluge of water. She looked to her left, and wondered why oncoming traffic seemed to be closer to her than it really should be. She looked to her right, and started to feel almost as if she was gliding along the road; she saw a small child in the backseat of a car going by. The young boy’s eyes were wide, and he was gesturing excitedly to the people she assumed were his parents.

Seeing the boy, it made her think of her own Mom and Dad; she felt so excited to be heading home. She’d get to see them both, even if for a short time. Driving back north felt strange, but familiar. She’d never lived so far from home; and this would be her first time back.

She looked around at the inside of her truck; she couldn’t place right then, why her backpack and Mountain Dew bottle were on the floorboard. Some of her other belongings were also strewn about. She looked to her left, and saw a wide-open space, illuminated by car lights, and thought, “That is the greenest green I have ever seen.” She looked to her left and thought to herself, that it felt so strange that the road seemed soft. She looked to her right, and saw flashing red and white lights bearing down on her side of the road. She said to herself, “I hope everyone is ok . . . “.

She felt strained all of a sudden, like all of her strength and energy was being used to brace herself against some sort of impact. Images and thoughts and feelings and pictures and all sorts of “firsts” and “what if’s” and “why not’s” and “God, that was so stupid” sorts of emotions overtook her. She was in the midst of a “this is your life” slideshow of her first crush, the winning shot, all that teenage angst, the new job, her kindergarten teacher, her favorite restaurant, and most memorable vacation spots. She saw her Mom, and her best friend; her cat, and her Gramma. The family camp, and the lake.

Her head jerked somewhat violently to the left; she felt like she was upside down, and then sideways, and then backwards. She looked to her right, and screamed out loud, and then closed her eyes. It smelled like dirt, and rain, and burning rubber. She had her eyes tightly closed, and her arms were stuck straight out to the left and right, almost as if to shield herself against something. She wondered why the windows were open, since she could feel the wind and rain on her face. She knew she wouldn’t have had them open in this awful weather.

At the sound of a loud voice saying, “Miss, Miss, are you alright?”, her eyes flung open. For a terrifying moment, she had no idea where she was, or what had happened, or if she really was alright.

She was sitting in her little pick-up truck, in the middle of a ditch, facing the opposite direction from where she was heading. There was broken glass everywhere, patches of grass, and clumps of dirt, mixed in with some of her belongings, and the remnants of many convenience store snack stops.

The man who appeared beside her door said again, quietly, “Miss? Is it ok if I open your door?” She looked at him, standing there in the rain, getting soaked; her accidental hero. He said, “Miss, I saw what happened. You sure are lucky. You must have flipped over five or six times . . . “, his voice trailing off, as he saw her eyes get wide and fill with tears.

She panicked, and looked all around the scene. “Do you know? Is anyone else hurt? Is everyone ok?” The man who came to her aid told her, “You were the only vehicle involved in the crash, Miss.” She leaned back against the seat, and closed her eyes. Her breathing was coming in short, fitful spurts.

She could hear sirens in the distance. She opened her eyes, and the man helping her said, “Stay right there, ok? Don’t move until the EMT’s can check you out. Please?”.

Two burly, but friendly, and also soaking wet EMT’s came to her side. They asked all kinds of questions, and figured that aside from a few cuts and bruises, that she was going to be just fine. A State Trooper arrived, asked a few questions of the EMT’s, and said, “Ma’am, I see you’re from out of state. We’re happy to help get you towed to a garage, and find you a hotel for the night.”

She was grateful for the kindness, and gingerly hopped out of the cab, and onto the wet ground. She looked around at the wide gashes in the earth from where her truck had skidded, and landed with a thud. One of the EMT’s said to her, “I was sure relieved to see that you were wearing your seatbelt; I don’t mean to scare you, but with rollover accidents, we don’t see many folks walk away. Plus, looks like you had a lucky bounce and it got you closer to the median, instead of right into traffic.”.

Her mind flashed back to the last pit stop she had made before the accident. In the parking lot, there was an old woman was getting into her car, and trying to put on her seatbelt. She was clearly struggling, and called out, “Could you please help me? I can’t get my seatbelt on.”

She reached over the woman, and gently secured her seatbelt for her. The old woman said, “Well, thank you so much, young lady. You just never know what might happen out there. Better safe than sorry, right? You best put yours on too, when you leave. I saw you pull in here; you weren’t wearing your seatbelt.” Then she softly said, “It feels like tonight is not a night to take any chances, you hear?” With that, that old woman pulled the car door closed, waved, and drove away.

Later that night, at the hotel, she took a long, hot shower. As she ran her hands over the painful red welts left by the strain of her seatbelt against her chest, she thought of the old woman. A grateful sigh escaped her lips. An intervention, of some sort, and the kindness of a stranger, had likely saved her life.