Driving home headed north on Route 1A this evening, I witnessed up close a frightening accident. For those of you familiar with Massachusetts’ North Shore, it was in Wenham at the cross street from the fire/police station over past the church. I was planning to turn left there, had just about reached the intersection and was slowing to wait for oncoming cars, when a big red pickup zoomed across from the right. The truck ran right in front of a southbound sedan (lights on, moving within the 30 mph speed limit). Damn! From the moment the truck pulled out I knew they’d collide!
I hit my own brakes. The car, I think (it all happened so incredibly fast), tried to swerve to the left to miss the pickup but couldn’t, smacking into the right rear around the wheel. BANG! Ye gods, what a sound! The sedan slewed around and away from me – only feet away from all this! – and came to a stop.
The pickup truck – and this all happened in a handful of seconds – slewed and skidded sideways, smacked into a wooden planter box on the side street divider, reared up on the driver’s side and did a screeching 180, ending up facing back toward the intersection, still resting on its side. (The planter box, about 4 feet long, 2 feet high, 2 feet wide, was knocked several feet off the divider.) I pulled over onto the side street near the truck, took a shaky breath, and ran over to the pickup, fearing the worst. Another witness, an older man, got there at the same time I did. We called “Are you all right?” For an awful moment there was silence. I didn’t want to think how badly the occupants might be hurt. Then the passenger side door was thrust up, the man helped shove it wide open, and two young men scrambled out.
Unhurt! I asked, and yes, they’d both had their seatbelts on. Three young women came over asking if everyone was okay – the driver and passengers of the car. The car’s driver was asking was it her fault, and I told her I’d seen it and she wasn’t at fault. Nor was she – she wasn’t speeding and had no chance to avoid hitting the truck. The young guy driving the pickup kept exclaiming he’d never seen the other car; his passenger asked me, “were we at fault?” and I told him from what I saw, yes.
Funny thing is, I believe the pickup driver about not seeing the car. Given the angles and the speeds of the two vehicles, I can see how the car could have been in the blind spot of the passenger-side window pillar during the crucial moments. Still, the guy was taking a stupid chance trying to jackrabbit across given how heavy the traffic was at that time.
I gave a brief statement and my contact info to the first police officer to arrive when he had a chance to talk to me, and waited around amid the throng of passersby and emergency response folks till it was clear I was no longer needed. The same officer who’d spoken to me was kind enough to stop traffic so I could get my car back on the road for an even more cautious than usual drive home. Still shaking.
GAK.
but for damn sure I got one hell of an adrenaline jolt, especially in that instant before I could be sure neither of the vehicles was going to rebound into mine.