Car accidents are neither beautiful nor glamorous. I don’t know what strand of logic led me to believe that there would be anything aesthetically appealing about metal against metal or scraped paint or dented doors. Probably lack of first-hand experience combined with romanticized language from books.
< Related: i still have anxiety when I’m driving >
Car accidents are the opposite of glamorous. They are awkwardness in slow motion. Sometimes you sense it coming when you see a car swerve or move when it’s not supposed to. Other times it sort of just sneaks up on you.
When a car hits yours, there’s nothing attractive about the thud that booms like a clap of thunder that hits too close for comfort. Then there’s the way the door of your car caves in from the impact. The side slams against your knee like a blunt invasion of privacy.
The incident that I was involved in took places months and months ago. It was very minor, yet I started to exhibit strange behavior afterwards.
I have realized that nothing can be taken for granted. Anyone sitting idly in the cars next to me at this stop light has the capacity to kill me.
Whoever invented the car did us a great service by forever revolutionizing the speed of our lives but also cursed our safety by letting average citizens operate huge blocks of metal, tanks of death.