As stated before, I went to my grandmother's Tuesday to get her and bring her back to the Metroplex Wednesday.
We left much later than I had hoped Wednesday, not getting on the road until 3:40 p.m. Around 6 o'clock we were into Fort Worth going East on 820. It was very 'stop-and-go' traffic, which is usual for 820 in the evening.
My grandmother had been talking since we left, almost two and a half hours now, but said something (what she said fails my memory) that got my attention and I looked over at her. It was then that the van in front of me applied his brakes rather quickly. I looked up to see me bearing down on his stopped car, so I applied my brakes rather forcefully to match, stopping with several feet to spare behind him.
I looked over at my grandmother to check on her, feeling bad for stopping so hard with her in the car. The next part explains why modern film-makers are so fond of flash-frame photography.
While looking at Grammy, I saw a flash of movement in my rearview mirror. I looked from her straight into the mirror, and in the splittest split of seconds, saw the Subaru mid-size automobile that only the rear-most, fastest processing parts of my brain knew was about to slam into me.
Kinetics are a funny thing. Let me recap with my visual aide.
Yesterday, the longer it had been since the crash, the slower it happened in my mind. Now it's kind of fuzzy, basically just jumping from seeing the car to knowing (not feeling) there was a strong collision to looking at Grammy again...
...The first thing I did, even as the car was still settling, was look back at Grammy and ask her several times if she was alright. She seemed fine, so I moved to get out and check on the car behind me. The lady (here on out "Gale") was already walking up as I was getting out. My door frame was warped, so I had to shoulder it pretty hard to pop the door open. Gale was fine, and the van man was fine.
When I noticed my gas door was bent in several places and the back end was folding in, I suddenly felt it pretty urgent to get Grammy out of the car. I lifted her through my seat and she sat in the van with the A/C on.
Gale was nice, and I felt sorry for her. She was coming to Dallas from New Mexico to visit her sister, so she's more SOL than I am. The Cop (here on out "Dick") was a jerk from the get-go. The first thing he said to us was
"You called a wrecker?"
We're all thinking 'Huh?' So I kind of motion at him and say "You're the...police." What the hell, man?
Dick: "Well, I'll call one for you, then."
Gee thanks, pal. You've got the serve part down, now protect us from all the traffic flying by and you'll have met your quota for the day.
My Aunt got there first, then my mom. The wreckers came, took off with the cars, and I grabbed an Auto Trader on the way home. There's a 1990 Toyota Corolla Station Wagon going for $2500...
