Life in the rear-view mirror

Life in the rear-view mirror

lørdag 16. juni 2012

Car accident... again!

About two week ago I was outside, walking in the dark. I was just walking along the road, under the street lamps when I had an idea. I turned around and just stared down the stretch of road ahead, than I sat on the rail by the road and waited. There was a car coming towards me from my right side, on the opposite side of the road. It was doing about 80 km/h. I watched as it hit the brakes, steered itself halfway of the road and then back on the road at a disturbing angle, now heading straight for me. The car didn’t hit me because this was my car, and I was at the wheel, and I wonder about that angle.

What I was doing there, at that rail, was processing. I have a very vivid imagination, and it’s quite helpful sometimes.

The day before, I and a friend of mine sat wrapped in blankets, waiting for an ambulance with people all around us, trying to keep us calm. We experienced shock, chest pain caused by seatbelts, blurred vision, dizziness and trembling. We had our torsos x-rayed and my head scanned. We were fine. My parents’ car had relatively little damage that paled to insignificance when compared to the car I hit. When we had stepped out of the car and looked back we saw something straight out of your worst nightmare. The other car had crossed the road and was now on its side up against a rock. On top of it was a man, trying to get his wife and baby out with the help of some bystanders. Behind me, from one of the cars that had stopped, loud, happy music was playing. Someone said to go turn it off and someone did. It was surreal. It still is. The car was trashed. In the words of the guy who salvaged it: it used to be a station wagon, but you can’t really tell. Somehow, all three of them made it out with only minor injuries from what I’m hearing. Wanting to make myself useful and just do something, anything, I started to collect debris from the road. Eventually, we settled in the open boot of the car. People came to talk to us. We talked to a few people who had witnessed the accident, and they were all in agreement that this was not my fault. This was my initial feeling about it too, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I had made it worse than I had to be. Paramedics and the police came to ask us questions. There was still a big open hole in this case. There had been a third car involved.

Some said it was dark, others said it was gray or silver. I said it was smaller than the ambulance, but bigger than the station wagon I was driving. Others say it was an SUV. Some say I should have checked it’s registration number, and I say I don’t know how on earth they imagine I would have time for that when all my brainpower was better spent avoiding a head on collision. The police said it was heading west and was on the spot at approximately 11.40, just like the rest of us. Witnesses said it took off. Salvagers say I’m positively screwed because I managed not to hit it so it has no damage that proves it was involved. We all agree it set the accident in motion.

Before this all went down. We had been heading east, talking about all kinds of different things, but at some point our conversation shifted to reckless driving and specifically overtaking. You know what they say: Speak of the devil! Suddenly our topic of choice was all up in our faces. Someone who remains unknown had decided it was a jolly good idea to overtake another car without checking for oncoming traffic. Had it bothered, it would have spotted a bright blue car that was not easy to miss and several other cars that followed. It was well into my lane before realizing it had made a mistake. There was nothing for me to do except hit the brakes and get my car out of the way. I took it off the road just far enough to miss the troublemaker without going all the way off and into the mountainside. This was a dangerous move, but still better than the option. However, what happened next is not quite clear, but I lost control of my car, trying to get it back on the road. There was a big risk of us crashing into the rocks had I not done so, but I hadn’t meant for it to get as far back into the road as it did. It hit the other car in the side. I only saw it just before I hit it. No matter how bad I feel I don’t think I could have done much besides what I did. I remember wondering how on earth this could happen again. It has only been 3 months since my beloved Hyundai Getz was rear ended. But I guess the doctor was right: “ni har haft tur i otur” (Swedish).

The media was on to it before we even made it to the hospital. The links below are to local media (NRK Sfj, Sunnmørsposten and Fjordingen) and it’s all in Norwegian (Nynorsk).

NRK Sfj: "Etterlyser bilar etter ulykke"

NRK Sfj: "Jaktar på bilførar etter ulykke"

Sunnmørsposten: "Mørk SUV etterlyst etter ulukke"

Fjordingen: "Stygg trafikkulukke i Markane"

Since I started writing this I have been in touch with the police, since this is under investigation. They’ve somehow managed to track down the missing car.

 No matter how stressful this has been, I couldn’t help but enjoy being interviewed by the police (formally as a suspect, even though they expect I will be cleared), having my rights explained to me and being informed of the benefits of admitting, should I be guilty. This is something you see on TV, not a situation I ever expected to find myself in. Ever since, I have grasped any excuse to inform everyone that their allowed to withhold information but not allowed to lie and of what would be required to get a reduced punishment :D Yes, I am indeed very weird.

“Ingenting er så galt at det ikkje er godt for noe”

Here's what happened (the blue car is me):



lørdag 9. juni 2012

Crossing my path

Sometimes, when I am driving, I think too much. I see trees, buildings and people. People walking, talking, about to cross the road and... wait a sec! CROSSING THE ROAD?! So I hit the brakes and as of yet, I have always done so in time. I feel stupid and sorry so I usually end up with a funny expression, like an assembly of pieces from different expressions. I like to call it my apologetic smile. Mostly when I abstain from... running over people, and do so with a good margin and clear intent, they hardly look in my direction. However, my funny grimace seems to do wonders. People are usually watching me intently at this point. I suppose they’re making sure they’re not about to die with tire marks across their face and an imprint of an italic H for Hyundai on their side. Also, when they have established that they will live, they want to know if I’m half asleep or just your average asshole. Anyway, they all seem to be content with the amount of genuine remorse displayed across my face. After all, I am about as hard to read as a lone neon sign in the dark. Most smile, some even wave. I’ve wondered a lot about this.

 Maybe it’s just my face... I think it looks something like this:   

This is how I imagine that I look, but I don’t really know. My face is simply out of my hands and I’ve given up trying to control it a long time ago. The more I try to look normal, the stranger I look. Plain and simple. I talked about my lack of talent with a friend of mine once, to try to sort it out, but it pretty much stranded as we couldn’t really be sure if she was really bad at reading facial expressions, or I was really bad at making them. Still, it is pretty well established that my face never look the way I intend for it to look. The expression in question probably looks a bit like I’m stuck in the process of changing it. Like when you’re on the internet and your browser is crashing, while you were trying to synchronise your iPod with iTunes, but you got so fed up with waiting for that piece of shit program to respond (I’m growing old here!), so you started Spotify, but Spotify is desperate to highjack your iPod and immediately picks a fight with iTunes. Also you might have forgotten to shut down Photoshop. BAM! System failure! This is basically what happens to my face. The muscles in my face just don’t understand why I would want to smile while feeling so miserably ashamed. I would make a terrible actor to say the least.

 At some point the hang up resolves itself, and I remember not to try to make my face do anything it doesn’t want to.