I was on my way to work this morning, crawling along the interstate and I saw a white blur out of the corner of my eye. I snapped my head around to look and saw a car.
It was rolling, tumbling across the opposite side of the interstate like a leaf in the wind, across lanes of traffic and grass medians – the sort of slow-motion, outside-of-time, car acrobatics that are so cool in movies and so vomit-inducing in real life. It slammed to rest, upside down, against the concrete girder that divides one half of the interstate from the other.
You’d have thought, from the number of cars gathered round, that it was a bigger pile-up, but there was just the one car involved. People on both sides of the highway stopped, got out of their cars, went to help. A lady with a cellphone called an ambulance, two flannel-clad guys in a pick up truck pulled over immediately, a suit-clad man in a silk tie stopped his Mercedes on the other side of the highway and vaulted the concrete girder like some storybook hero, rushing to join the growing line of people helping to turn this car back over. It was terrifying, but strangely beautiful and I still kinda feel like I’m going to throw up.
The ambulance passed me a little way up the road and it’s strange to think that the person (people?) in that car are probably here right now (unless, please God, they weren’t hurt and just went home.)