Here ya go:
I've got to admit, that's a pretty damn good name for a fireman. Unfortunately, I don't know if his name is Jack or not. I didn't think to ask, and well... he was kind of busy.
Earlier today, I was sitting in the living room reading a bit when I heard the rather loud and sickening crunch of car-on-car violence. When I looked out, I noticed that someone had plowed her new Buick into my neighbor's ancient minivan. So, I called the cops and went out to check on the woman in the Buick.
At first, she seemed a little unhinged and panicked as she fumbled with a bottle of pills. There was a lot of confused squealing as she tried to answer my questions, and though I didn't smell any alcohol, I thought this woman was either drunk or over-medicated. And, when she threw her car into reverse and tried to untangle her Buick from my neighbor's van, I told her to turn the engine off and remain as still as possible.
As she remained in her car committed to doing nothing more challenging than rocking back and forth and mumbling, the first emergency vehicle to come blaring down the street in a flash of lights and screaming sirens was an ambulance. He parked in front of the woman's car.
Then another ambulance arrived and parked in front of the first ambulance.
After that, the police showed up in a convoy of four cars and two big SUV's.
One more ambulance managed to join the party by sneaking in at the other end of the street.
And, finally, just as I thought we were approaching a laughable level of emergency vehicle overkill, a big, honking firetruck worked its way through the gauntlet of police and EMT vehicles to come to rest right beside my now trembling Jeep.
If I had an ABBA CD playing, my street would have been an instant disco with all those flashing lights.
Nonetheless, in a matter of seconds, they had the woman removed from her car (the door had been crumpled shut), and they put her in one of the many ambulances. Then, it was about an hour's worth of well-coordinated conversations about baseball, weekend plans, and what have you between the EMTs, police and firemen. If someone had a frisbee, I'm pretty sure we'd have wound up with a wild, disco block-party on this hot and muggy Monday afternoon.
Crazy.As it turns out, the woman driver had what one officer called a diabetic episode. And, though I'm still not 100% sure I buy that, something was definitely wrong with the woman. And, other than her confused and panicked state, she had no injuries, and came away from the crash considerably better than her car. And, in retrospect, we, including my neighbor and his wife, were all pretty relieved that she hit his car (which he was going to be replacing), and not any of the random children playing on the sidewalks up and down my neighborhood.
Now, those of you who know me are probably sitting there thinking, Of course it had to be a Buick.
I still firmly believe that somewhere in the computer brain of all Buicks built since 2000, there is a rather tidy algorithm that states quite plainly: Car Must Kill Dan.
I don't know why, but whenever I'm out on the road, if there is a car flying out of nowhere intent on blowing a red light and plowing straight into my driver's side door, chances are, it will be a Buick. In fact, I could probably be walking down a street in some muddy, dark, Romanian backwater village where they've probably never heard of the automobile, and when an explosion mysteriously disrupts the idle silence of that bucolic Eastern Bloc town, it's going to be a car bomb, and it's going to be a Buick.
Seriously, folks. It doesn't even have to be on the road. Don't be surprised if you read about some sort of freak accident where a Buick fell from the sky, and you know I'm going to be in the center of it.
Buicks are out to get me. Fortunately, I know that if it happens in my town, there should be no shortage of emergency vehicles.
-DP
--
Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 7/08/2008 12:10:00 AM
