(still singing) ... please have no snow, or ice either because it'll make my car wreck ... and presents to drown my sorrow ...

I was driving to Ogden today, when I hit a patch of ice in between lanes on I-70 just outside Lawrence. My car spun from the middle lane all the way to the median wall - where the front left side made a hard, loud impact, smashing the entire front of my car as it continued to spin and slam into the back right.

It continued to spin, but I kept my hands on the wheel as all the alerts lit in my dashboard and my airbag failed to execute (thank God). By the time I managed to pull my car calmly to the shoulder of the road, without hitting anyone or seriously injuring myself, I think I had spun counter clock-wise 2 or 3 times; I barely scraped my knee and the impact knocked my glasses off. The catch-all wicker basket I keep in my car got smashed, and the presents went flying, but nothing inside the car, including myself, was seriously injured.

I was lucky. It's strange for me to be optimistic in times of crisis, but I managed to remain calm during the wreck - I know at first I yelled "Whoaaa!!!" not unlike while on a roller coaster, but a string of curse words cruised me for the rest of the thrill-ride until I finally stopped. I think, at one point during the spinning, I even smiled, just because the experience was so surreal, like when you're at a funeral - and so fast you can't catalog the appropriate expressions and sins to repent in time. I remember thinking, "Merry Christmas to me!" and betrayal because, "MY CAR WAS JUST BURGLED!"

Again, just like when I fell off that cliff, I was surprised that my life didn't flash before my eyes. How close to death must one be before all the flashing. I wanted flashing. I had to settle with flashers, well, flasher, as the only one of my lights that remains in any sort of tact is the back left side.

When I stopped, I tried to start my car again - my visceral reaction was, "Ugh, I'm going to be late for work." Kind of like when my car was burgled (what, like 3 weeks ago), when I wondered if I should just drive my car to breakfast without worrying about all the shattered glass.

I called 911 who transferred me to The Turnpike Authority, who dispatched a tow truck and a highway patrol officer (who had an I-hate-filling-out-car-accident-paperwork-where's-my-murder-case look about him). They took my information at the service station between Lawrence and Topeka. I had seen tow truck after tow truck and cop after cop speed by me as I shouted, "I'm right here!" I guess the other accidents were more serious; I hope everyone of them is OK.

Tow truck driver asked if I had a ride, but I didn't. He said he'd give me a ride, but I needed to figure out what I'd do when I got back to Lawrence. I called all the friends I knew that would still be in Lawrence over the holidays, and they were few. I was edging toward desperation when I called a few exes (one who called me later, concerned), but I ended up being able to easily rent a car (even though Enterprise employees have to get managerial permission for those under 25).

Tow truck driver drove me to Steve's Autoplaza in Lawrence (I recommend it to EVERYONE) while Highway Patrolman whistled on his very-un-merry-way. The woman at Steve's wore a shirt with a Santa Claus almost as big as mine and was most kind and caring as was the auto repairman.

They spoke with my insurance agent, listened to my babbling, gave their advice, and got me set up with a rental car from the Enterprise store across the street. I wanted something big and 4 wheel drive, and so they showed me the Jeep Commander, an almost Hum-Vee. I sat in the driver's seat and felt almost militant. Perfect. For a while, all my energy conservation crap broke off me like one of my headlights. I'm sure I'll feel guilty about it soon enough, but for now, just call me Private Whiplash.

Here are some photos:

I saw pieces of my car flying off in different directions, and when I exited my car, which I affectionately named Argo, I saw I-70ers run over the pieces, and tear them to shreds, while my bumper lay on the left shoulder by itself. I couldn't help but feel guilty for my car, like undead roadkill. I look at these photos and have the kind of sensation I'd get if one of my animals were injured.

This is Argo at the repair shop, and the white vehicle is my rental. Argo is still definitely better looking, well, maybe not NOW, but my Escape had a kind of timeless class that made me love it more than I probably should have. It was very dependable, always there should my friends need rescuing. It moved at least 3 people, carried my college career and fit snugly in my garage and in my life as the perfect car. I'm sorry I failed it.

Thanks for reading. <3