"Only you, Kelly...." --Uttered by my mom (your Nana), 17 October, 2008

Hey kids,

Momma was in a pick'em-up truck vs. motorcycle last Friday. Judging from the above photo, guess who won...

So there I was, minding my own business, stopped at a traffic light in C@rson's business district at the height of the afternoon rush hour. I glance into my rearview mirror and see a motorcycle coming up on me pretty fast. I look forward again, never once thinking that he would actually HIT me. Maybe that he will come to a somewhat rough stop when he actually realizes how close he is to me, but that he WILL stop.

And a micro-second later, ***SMASH!!!!*** I jump out of my truck and run back to see if anybody is still alive. The guy in the car behind the motorcycle is already there, crouched beside the bike and its riders, and asks if I have a cell phone, and I run back to the cab and get it and call 911. Before I have even breathlessly and shakily tried to tell the lady on the phone where we are, the police have already arrived, seemingly less than a minute since impact.

Okay, this is the part in the story where my mother and a couple others to whom I have recounted this to have dissolved in gales of inexplicable laughter...

There were two people on the bike, a man and his wife. The man was laying beside the bike, both his legs sticking out at impossible, crazy angles. I immediately imagine the worst, and feel my lunch start to rocket upwards from my stomach. But the woman on the ground, closer to me, moans, "My husband... He has two prosthetic legs..."

WTF?!??!

I'm hovering over her, asking her if she's okay, and she's nodding, but she's not getting up. She's pitifully trying to apologize to me, while her husband is laying there trying to apologize to *her*, and I'm feeling completely dazed and helpless.

There are eventually a total of eight police cars and various other emergency vehicles clustered around us. People have gathered on both sides of the highway to gawk; some are taking pictures, mothers are bawling at their kids to stay out of the way, traffic on the opposite side of the road is crawling by, I see at least two people that I know drive by.

It takes at least half an hour to get them loaded into an ambulance, and for me and a couple other people to give our statements to the troopers. Eventually I am told that I am free to go.

I dunno, I guess I expected that after something so traumatic, that I would be escorted home by a squadron of police cars, perhaps some kind of counselor riding shotgun to monitor my condition and speak soothing words to me as I drove.

But no, I just got in my truck and drove away. Well, to the nearest parking lot where I parked and called your daddy and shakily hot-boxed about three cigarettes.

I had assumed since Friday that both riders were okay, since they were alert and talking while they were loaded into the ambulance, but I found out today through their insurance gal that the woman is definitely not okay, and is still in the hospital. I didn't want to ask more than that, but it sounds like she is pretty bad off, and that while her husband is injury-free, he is beside himself with worry.

I took my truck to the shop today. They have claimed complete liability for the accident, and their insurance folks are extremely helpful. I've been provided with a cute little Toyota Corolla rental to tool around in for as long as it takes to replace a bumper, a right rear panel, a headlight and a tailpipe, possibly more. Their relatively small bike did a pretty good number on my truck. A trooper told me that the impact pushed my truck a good two feet forward.

As for my back... the accident happened within half an hour of my last physio appointment, so who knows if being all loose and warmed up at the moment of impact was a help or not. I just know that I felt pretty used and abused over the weekend.

Another crazy thing: your daddy admitted to me a couple days ago that he had listened to King Diamond a couple days before the accident. He has told me before that he doesn't listen to King Diamond anymore, because the last few times that he has, I have had horrible luck with my vehicle. Like a speeding ticket, an expired tags citation, that last huge $2000 repair job. So why in the hell would he chance it? How much misery has to occur before he just purges all the KD out of his collection? I know that it's a silly connection to make, but no one can deny that the connection is there. Maybe *I* will wipe out every KD song on his iPod when he's not around.

I am soooooo thankful that neither of you were in the truck with me. Maybe there is a Goddess after all. Love you both, and promise to post some really cute photos of you in my next entry.