Don't drive over 4 m.p.h. in the rain....

As some of you have heard, I got myself into a one-car accident on Sunday morning as I was headed back to the Spa from a friend's house in Little Rock. So, here's the scoop. I was driving in the rain down a long and winding road toward I-430, when I came upon a sharp left curve headed downhill followed by a sharp right curve. The speed limit dropped just before I reached the left curve, so I started braking, then kept braking as I traveled down the hill. As I started to make the right turn, Phoebe (my car) began to skid, and, like an idiot, I pressed harder on my brakes. I've hydroplaned before for a second or two, but my tires have always gripped the road again. Unfortunately, because of the state of my tires (not too old but certainly not new), the rain, the angle/slope of the turn, and my idiocy in not driving well below the speed limit under those conditions, Phoebe slid across the road, first into the other lane (the only oncoming car was close enough to see the accident but not close enough to be involved, thank Heaven) and then off the road, down a rock embankment, and into the ditch, rolling onto the driver's side:

The driver's window shattered, and the glass caused some minor cuts in my left arm, but otherwise I was injury-free. I wasn't even been jarred very much -- I've had some muscle soreness the last couple of days, but it is gone today (without even the need for aspirin or other hard drugs). Knowing I wasn't injured and considering I couldn't remember the name of the road I was on, I grabbed my phone to call my friend Katie (since I had just left her sister's house 5 minutes earlier). She answered, and before I could say anything, I heard someone say, "Are you OK?" from outside the car. Being in a bit of a daze, I responded with, "Just a minute -- I'm on the phone." (I realize now I must have sounded like a lunatic.) Then I told Katie, "I've been in an accident, but I'll have to call you back" and hung up on her (another daze-inspired moment). A guy about my age (who, with his girlfriend, had been in the single oncoming car and had stopped at the scene) crawled into the ditch onto the car and opened the passenger door. I had been nervous to move, because I didn't want to cause Phoebe to roll over any farther, but he assured me that she was wedged into the ditch and wouldn't budge. I climbed out the passenger door and sat on top of the car for a minute to catch my breath, but not before I made sure to collect my essential personal belongings (my giant purse, iPod, etc.) to hand to Daniel, who handed them up to his understandably confused girlfriend, Sarah, who was standing on the side of the road. As Sarah had already called 911, I called Katie back to tell her specifically where I was and "to drive extremely slowly around the curve by the church, for crying out loud", then I called the Rakhshans to let them know I wouldn't be able to stay with their dog all day (note: clearly I deal with trauma through organization). I was still sitting on top of my car at this point, calmly chatting on the phone, which must have looked fairly ridiculous to the passers-by, all of whom stopped to make sure I was alright. I then climbed up the rocks back to the road just as the police and ambulance arrived. The EMTs cleaned up my arm, and one of them told me that mine was "about the 900th car we've had to come deal with on this curve". And later, while we were waiting for the wrecker and the sheriff deputies had positioned their squad cars on either side of Phoebe in order to caution traffic, a car came down the hill, saw the flashing lights, hit their brakes, and started skidding down the hill, just as I had. Fortunately, they were able to stop, and after they safely passed, a sheriff deputy said to me, "You know, this is most dangerous spot in the county." I fought the urge to reply, "You think? Hmmm, I hadn't noticed." I also fought the urge to reply sarcastically when the officer ticketed me for "allowing my vehicle to careen off the road"... as though that were something I had just been trying out for fun.

While I was watching my car being towed out of the ditch, my friend Katie remarked how lucky I was to be unhurt, and I immediately thought of my maternal grandmother, Lorain. As some of you know, she passed away last Monday, August 4. As an adult, she memorized Psalm 91 and would kneel by her bed every morning to pray and repeat that chapter as protection for her family, friends, and even people she had just met on the street. During my childhood, when I would visit my grandparents in Camden, I would pray with her each morning, and eventually I learned the scripture by heart, too (from the NIV, which begins "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty"). Last Sunday, when Cynthia and I received a call that her condition was rapidly deteriorating (after having Alzheimer's for about the last five years, which had left her completely bedridden and mostly incoherent the last year or so), my aunt put the phone to her ear, and I recited Psalm 91 to her. I didn't hear a response (which was not unusual), but I like to believe she heard it. Throughout the last week, the Edwards family and I repeated those words a number of times, and I am certain that the power of that scripture, prayed over me countless times by my grandmother, as well as so many others' prayers of protection, kept me safe Sunday morning (and numerous other times, I'm sure).

So, aside from being saddled with exorbitant towing fees, Phoebe and I made it safely back to the Spa on Monday. (Homer and Karen were great about it -- not only did they help with the cost, Dad found a local wrecker to tow the car back to Hot Springs and arranged to leave her at his buddy Tim Parker's dealership until I can decide what to do.) We went to check her out yesterday, and she's running just fine. (Hurrah for Hondas!) However, the body work will cost at least twice the value of the car, so I'll probably be saying adios to Phoebe and selling her for usable parts. We had ten good, accident-free years together (since I was 16!), and while I had hoped for at least five more, I suppose I'll (reluctantly) be willing to let her go.

Sorry to ramble, but posting this has been somewhat cathartic (hello, imminent blogging addiction), and I guess it's good to have the experience documented (other than in a police accident report). And it serves as a memorial of sorts for dear ol' Pheebes. Who knows...maybe I'll get to drive her again, all shiny and new, in Heaven. And as for Lorain, I can rest peacefully knowing that she is most assuredly all shiny and new again, and, as Cynthia wrote in her eulogy, "with her valiant Albert in his fishing boat in the River of Life flowing from the Throne of God...."

P.S. I've decided I'll be taking over the daily Psalm 91 recitation (since I'm the only one in my mom's family who ever learned it), so if you feel particularly safe and secure over the next few weeks, that's be the reason. :)

-Susannah