Mounties, Car Crashes, and Second Chances

Wow. Its been a while. A long while. I mean, 6 seasons of Doctor Who long while. 

Yes, on this break I have successfully watched 6 seasons of Doctor Who, and 2 of Torchwood. BBC is a marvelous thing to get hooked on, if you have to choose something to get hooked on in the first place.


A lot has happened in this month or so I've spent flying around in the T.A.R.D.I.S. Mock Trial has started back up for me, as I will be traveling with the team to Empire in the fall for a competition with elite teams from all over the world.

Yeah. Thats right.

I'm going to be competing with British guys. In flipping New York City. Mhmm. Be jealous.

Be very jealous.

But what brings me to the great, magnificent world of blogging today isnt to brag about the fact that I GET TO MEET REAL LIVE BRITISH GUYS (one of which will hopefully have a pinstripe suit that he wears with converse), but its to talk about something that happened a week ago, that I think I'm finally ready to talk about.

I totaled. My car.

My beautiful baby Darcy most likely is dead. Dead, dead, dead. But there is a slight chance that he may live...Hopefully. Maybe. But probably not....

Here what you missed last week on Glee -- no wait...No thats not right...Hold on...

Apparently, you CAN hydroplane going 27 mph. A fact which I found out the hard way. The really hard way.

Coming home from work on a dreary Wednesday afternoon, just like I do every other day of the week, I wrecked. No other cars were involved, just me. Thank God for that. In fact, thank the good Lord I'm still alive at all. But I'll get to that part momentarily. Getting off my normal exit from the interstate, for the hundredth time, I hit a slick spot. At the exact same moment I hit my break.

The two, obviously, do not mix.

That's when things started...happening. The steering wheel jerked viciously to the left, as did my car. I, being only 16, did what any terrified 16 year old would do. I grabbed that sucker and swung it the other way. A bit too hard though. My car span out of control, right at the guardrail. The guardrail that saved my life. And, yes, also could have potentially killed me, but still. It saved me from going off the cliff-type-hilly-thing. The right side of the bumper hit first, increasing the velocity and swinging it to the left, which was when the left side of the front bumper hit. Which in turn, swung me all the way around, crashing the entire left side of my back bumper into the guardrail.

Then I blacked out for a good 15 seconds. When I came to, I realized what happened. I had crashed. The first thought that popped into my head wasn't a ton of flashbacks, like in the movies. That complete bull. No, the first thought that popped into MY head was this:

"Oh God. She's going to KILL ME."

She, being my mother. And KILL ME, meaning brutally murder me, bury me, dig me up, and kill me again. More on that later.

When I came to, for the first 2 minutes, I was fine. A young woman, about 23 or so, had stopped while I took it all in, and asked if I was okay. I was okay THEN, yes, so I waved her on, got my cell phone out, and started calling. First my mom (who didn't answer), then my dad (didn't answer), then my grandma (nope), followed by every other family member I have. No one. Answered.

No. One.

I was petrified. As I was about to call my mock trial coach, because frankly, I had no one left, my grandmother calls back.

And I loose it. 

I break down in the middle of the off ramp, blubbering like an idiot what happened, where I am, and all that jazz. 3 more cars have stopped by this time, to see if I'm okay. A very nice couple in their 50's, a woman in her 30's, and a little old lady in her late 80's. The first thing out of this sweet little old lady's mouth?

"The same thing happened to my grandson just last week. But he had weed in his car. So he's in a holding cell in Tampa now. If you have drugs in your car, you better get rid of them now!"

Yeah. Because I look like the kind of girl how has crates of LSD and crack in my back seat. You know, the one whose blubbering like a baby in the middle of an off ramp. Just let me go grab that and toss it off this cliff-type-hilly-thing.

Unfortunately, he didn't look exactly like this.

Eventually, my grandma gets there. And so does the state trooper, county, and city cops. And I think a Mountie might have been there too, but I could be wrong. Must have been all that LSD, giving me hallucinations.

She handles everything, calls my mom (who I'm too terrified to face at the moment), and everything's calming down. More cars stop, but my grandpa waves them by. Rubberneckers. The usual. And then, the Mountie-looking one asks for my drivers license.

I'm going to have a record.

And the blubbering doth begin. Again.

In the end, I find out that he's not going to issue me a ticket (and I know it wasn't because I was cute. I had teats and snot everywhere.), and soon I'm on my way home in my grandma's Lexus. My blue baby had been towed to a lot, and I was on my way to face the worst part of my day.

My parents.

Which, to my surprise, we're understanding and just glad I was alive. Because apparently, people have DIED on that exit ramp before.

But I'm alive (obviously), and I thank God for that. I was just happy to wake up the next morning. Always be grateful for second chances. They only come along once in a blue moon. God has a purpose for me, or else He wouldn't have let me live. And I intend to fulfill it.