Four Strikes…and I’m Still Here?

by  Belinda Hughes

JUNE 2000 - “Oh Lord, we’re gonna get hit!!!” yelled Hannah.  We felt one thud after another. The plate of red beans and rice I had been eating flew to the back of the van, sprinkling rice all over our guitars, purses and books.

While we sat waiting on the police, we phoned our mothers to let them know where we were, what had happened, and that we were okay. Fortunately, we didn’t wind up in the middle of the first collision, as well. Not so fortunately, when the authorities arrived, accidents were still happening on the bridge behind us.

Hannah’s truck was still safely driveable, so we got our licenses back from the state police and went to the nearest hospital for X-rays. Sitting in the emergency room waiting area, we saw what we’d escaped. Wailing ambulances poured into the drive, other victims streaming in on gurneys and in wheelchairs, their families weeping alongside them.

When all was said and done, about 30 cars were involved in the long string of pileups on the bridge that afternoon. It turned out one red pickup truck had been traveling too fast and hit a second pickup truck, knocking that one into us. But by the grace of God, we didn’t hit any other cars or go into the river, and we were still in one piece.

JUNE 2001 - I heard her cell phone ring. I heard her cry “Oh no!!!” the moment before she hit me. The impact knocked me halfway into the intersection, and rendered my car undrivable. The trunk was crushed, too. Its lid stood open and wouldn't shut.

I got out and checked on her, and her vehicle and mine. We agreed to meet at the convenience store on the corner. Then I pushed my car the rest of the way across the intersection, and then some. The sprawling construction prevented me from pushing it into what used to be another convenience store. I was forced to park it at the next business, a boat and motorcycle shop.

Inside our meeting place, I bought a bottle of water and rolled it up and down my neck. The police had been notified and were on their way. But I couldn’t find my family to come and pick me up. No one answered at my mother’s, father’s or sister’s homes. I left word on my sister’s answering machine, and sat down to give my account to the police.

The driver behind me stated that she had just finished teaching vacation bible school at the nearby church.  She was headed home at the time of the accident.  While completing her turn in behind me, and preparing to stop, her husband had called.  As she answered her cell phone, she realized too late she had pressed the gas instead of the brake, and was going to hit me.

Again I emerged without scratches, broken limbs or any need for surgery. God had kept his hand on me.

THANKSGIVING FRIDAY 2002 - Northbound at the light, I waited till it turned green and proceeded through the intersection, bearing left into the turning lane by the bank, then stopping to wait for passing traffic. I would have bet that the girl driving the truck in my rearview was going to go safely around me, and continue north to the next light. I would’ve been wrong.

It felt like she had only glanced off the right corner of my rear bumper. We parked in a nearby subdivision, where we checked out our cars, ourselves, and asked about each other. Then we called the police, our insurance agents, and families

I was wrong again. There was an indented scratch the length of my car, marking where her rearview mirror had made contact.

In her statement, she said she was northbound behind me at the light. As she followed me through the intersection, she inexplicably began watching another woman, who turned left and drive west away from us. She completely took her eyes off the rest of the traffic around her, including me. She didn’t see me sitting there, and therefore made no attempt to stop.

The officer examined the scene and confirmed that my vehicle had been fully stopped, and was completely in the turning lane. Once again, I walked away with no scratches, broken bones and required no surgery, and I was not at fault. The Lord continued to protect me from serious harm.

EASTER SUNDAY 2003 - Just as he was nearly stopped, the wet pavement grabbed his car by the tires and flung it into my rear bumper. Inside my Lincoln, it sounded like someone knocking once on the thick wooden door of an ancient European stone castle.  I called the police, my mother, massage therapist, and chiropractor, now all on speed dial.  The 17-year-old driver was fine, but his car looked worse than mine.  We waited for the police officer, exchanged information and went our separate ways.

Earlier in the day, Mom had harvested a bumper crop of roses. We decided to share the excess with patients at a local nursing home.  A couple boxes were filled with leftover vases that overflowed with fragrance and color.  Some residents enjoyed them more than others, but the staff seemed to be the most thrilled, as we had specifically asked to share with those who hadn’t received visitors that holiday weekend.

Afterwards, I drove around town, delivering the remainder to my closest friends and enjoying the visits.  With one rose left to deliver, I was stopped at a light.  It had rained some a few hours earlier, but the clouds had moved on.  The well-lit pavement, however, remained wet, the streetlamps and signals reflecting off it like a dark mirror in the night.

Still waiting on traffic and the light, I noticed headlights in my rearview and saw the small economy car approaching from four blocks away, the only vehicle behind me.  He seemed to be driving slowly, carefully, responsibly, considering the wet pavement.  It looked like he was going to be able to stop with no trouble.  But it just wasn’t meant to be that way.

After four rear-end collisions in three years, each day is a marvel.  That I’m alive, and not in a wheelchair or hospital bed for the rest of my life astounds me.  That I haven’t had even one surgery, and my limbs move, unbroken, and according to my will, utterly amazes me.  These days, it hurts to do certain things, some more than others.  But I manage.  I’m just glad to be here.

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