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It was a nice day for winter in Pennsylvania. Even though the air was
brisk, the sun was shining—not bad for a trip to take my 80-year-old mom
to the Social Security office in Corning, N.Y. However, by the time we got
to Corning, there were a few snow flurries. When we left two hours later,
we were in a full-blown snowstorm—the kind where snow turns to ice as
soon as you run over it.
About two miles south of Corning, a man in a beat-up pickup truck
passed us. It was obvious he had little regard for the deteriorating road
conditions. He was all over the road and going way too fast. Being
concerned, I told mom to tighten her seat belt in case we started sliding.
My mom would usually argue with me, but this time, she didn’t say a
word. She just gave her belt a tug.
With the man in the pickup truck out of sight, everything looked fine.
There was very little traffic, and those cars on the road were going
slowly. Then I rounded a curve, and there was the pickup truck, in the
middle of the road and blocking both lanes.
Evidently, the driver had tried to make the exit to Presho, N.Y., and
had been traveling too fast. I slowed down as much as I could, but
discovered I was also going too fast for road conditions. I could
see I wasn’t going to get around the pickup or be able to stop in time.
I quickly assessed three choices: hit the truck, go into a ditch, or try
to go up the exit ramp. I decided the ramp offered the least severe
consequences.
I made it up the ramp about 15 feet, when my truck started sliding
sideways. It slid off the ramp and into an exit sign supported by three
poles. The sign snapped off at the base and flew over the cab. The poles
caved in the front fender, the door and the extended-cab compartment. The
driver’s door window shattered, and glass sprayed into the cab area.
I leaned toward mom to shield her from the glass. It was a fortunate
move, because a section of the center pole had broken off and had come
through the side window. If I had been sitting upright, the pole would
have hit me in the head.
A police officer arrived about five minutes after the wreck. He was on
his way to another one when he saw me and pulled over to help. He helped
me change the front tire, which had blown, and get my truck back on the
road.
He said he had seen the other truck drive off and could tell where he
had been in the road. He also asked my mom if she was all right. Her reply
was, "My back hasn’t felt this good in months."
The end result of this wreck was $5,200 damage to my truck, an increase
in my insurance premiums, a destroyed road sign, and a wild ride that
"fixed" my elderly mom’s back problem.
Normally, my mom would make a fuss about wearing a seat belt, but that
day she listened to me, and neither one of us was hurt. It was a pretty
nice day after all. |
