Welcome back to part two of the "Cars" blog. Seems like I left some folks hanging, most notably, my mother.
As you might recall from yesterday's dispatch, I talked about coming across pictures over the weekend of my first car, a 1969 VW Bug, and my first brand-new car, a 1982 Chevrolet Camaro. It seems in the body of the story, the third paragraph to be exact, I wrote these words, "and the DWI incident of June 30, 1986, which is a story for another day." I knew the story, and M knew the story, but as it turns out, few if anyone else did. Apparently, I should have clarified what I wrote.
Talking to my mother this morning, she mentioned reading yesterday's blog, and then said, and this is a direct quote from her lips, "I read your blog and one thing surprised me. Want to guess what it was?" I responded like any son and said, "the fact that I drove my new Camaro 120 mph?" She calmly responded with, "no, that didn't surprise me. What surprised me was you got a DWI. You never told me that." Now it was my turn to be surprised. I responded, "I never got a DWI, did I write that? For the record, even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." She said I mentioned something about the DWI incident of 1986. Now I remember, and she was right, I did not elaborate on it. But as I mentioned then, and above, "that is a story for another day." To save my reputation, and expound on the DWI incident, and appease my mother, another day has arrived.
Ok, I'll make this as brief as I can. I mentioned the DWI incident of June 30, 1986. Trish (my first wife) and I were in the St. Louis suburb of Florissant, making arrangements for the tuxes, as our wedding was only three months away. I was driving on West Florissant Road, maybe a half mile south of I-270. It was summer, it was hot, but there was a nice breeze blowing and for some reason, I had the windows down, which turned out to be a blessing. I was doing about 40 mph when the Camaro died.
West Florissant Road was four-lane, and I was in the far-right lane driving south, when all of a sudden, through the trees and bushes on my right, I saw a car driving at a high rate of speed coming out of a parking lot. I had no time to react. I hit this Datsun/Nissan broad side on the driver's side door, as I said, at about 40 miles per hour. The vehicle became airborne after I hit it and cleared all four lanes of traffic. It landed upside down in a ravine, about 50 feet from where we had made contact. My door wouldn't work, but the window was open, so I climbed out the window like I was a NASCAR driver and ran across the road. Numerous cars had already stopped, and several individuals had already made their way down the 10 feet or so to where the car I had just hit lay.
It was a surreal scene, just like the movies. The wheels were still spinning; steam was coming from the engine. The driver, a male, who appeared to be about my age (29), was half-in, half out of the driver's side window. He was covered in broken glass and blood. He was not moving. I sincerely thought I had killed him. About 30 seconds or so later, he started moaning and moving a bit. He was alive. The paramedics arrived quickly and took him to the nearest hospital.
While this was going on, a number of witnesses gave me their name and number telling me they saw the whole thing, that it was not my fault. The driver had gone right through a stop sign. An officer from the St. Louis County Police also arrived quickly and I talked to him. I made him promise to call me, no matter the hour, to fill me in on the condition of the other person.
We went to the ER at DePaul Hospital in Bridgeton to be checked out as we both had minor
injuries. Trish was in shock over the events; I was wearing shorts and had two bloody knees from where they had
hit the underside of the dashboard on impact.
Otherwise, we were ok. My Camaro
was no more. The entire front end was up
against the firewall. I should add the
officer did call me about 11 that night, about five hours after the accident. He said the driver was ok and would live. He had been drinking. A lot.
His blood alcohol was 0.28 In
Missouri that is about three and-a-half times over the legal limit of
0.08. The officer actually said the fact
he was that drunk probably saved his life. He also added the gentleman I had hit was driving on a suspended driver's license, had no insurance, and had received another DWI just three weeks prior.
So there you have it, the DWI incident of June 30, 1986. Trish and I could have very easily been killed or seriously injured if I had been just one second faster. As I mentioned in yesterday's blog, for about a minute, I thought I had killed another person. Fortunately, no one died. I have talked about that evening to various high school Bible classes many times. For every action, there is a consequence. Choose your actions carefully, make wise decisions, and remember that sometimes, the actions of others, have dire consequences for us.
The lesson was simple. Use your head and make good choices. By putting yourself in danger, you can also be endangering the life of others.
Be kind to each other and care for one another. See you back here in a few days.
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