8 months before our wedding.
To start from the beginning, two weeks before our wedding I had a little accident. A car accident. I had just completed that day's college courses and was still a little focused on upcoming finals. It had been very hot previously but on that day it rained... it rained and brought all the oils up to the surface of the road. I was still a fairly new driver. Oh joy.
I was pulling away from the stop sign when my tires caught, I swerved and ended up in a ditch facing the opposite direction that I was originally headed. While sliding in a semi-circle and slipping into the 8 foot dip, all of my school books and homework seemed to float around my head. You know, because time slowed down... First thought : "Great. Now I have to put ALL of that back."
#1. I was driving my fiance's Blazer. His baby. And I was in the process of killing it.
#2. I could have been severely hurt. We are lucky the air bag did not deploy and possibly break my glasses into my face AT LEAST.
#3. Who seriously cares that much about their homework???
Anyway, as soon as I rearranged my books and things, I crawled out the passenger side door and called my mom to come get me. While climbing up the embankment a car pulled over to make sure I was okay. While waiting for my mom, a bunch of cars pulled over to make sure I was okay. Including two friends from high school who were also freshmen in college that year, and a new friend I had made earlier in the year.
One of them had been kind enough to call the police.*Previous sentence dripping with sarcasm* Now, after dating Brandon for over a year, I had heard many police related stories, some regarding accidents, and I had heard his off-hand comments whenever we saw a police/sheriff car pass us. I was terrified of the police. Not only was I freaked out, but I was freaked out that my freaking out would make the officer think I was on crack or drunk and be given a drug test or made to walk a straight line, something even three years of ballet couldn't make me do. Or (oh, please no) make me recite the alphabet backwards. As one who suffers from dyslexia, reciting the alphabet A-Z is difficult sometimes and let's not even mention that I still need to wink to discern which is left and which is right.
The officer only asked me a couple questions (I honestly can't remember what they were) and let me off with a warning and reminded me to file an accident report. Phew!
Finally, my mom arrived. Next I was faced with the part I had been seriously dreading. Calling my fiance and telling him about the sudden death of his vehicular child. I remember trying to fight back the tears as the moment started to really sink in, and trying to keep my voice under control so as not to freak Bran out, which must have worked because after answering his Blazer related questions and hanging up so he could tell his dad and step mom, and being asked if I was all right, he realized he hadn't even asked. Of course if I was hurt I would have mentioned it first. I think. So immediately he called me back to make sure I was fine. All I suffered from was a bruise from my seat belt and achy muscles from being jerked around after slamming the front end of the Blazer down an 8 foot ditch, into a wall of dirt and swinging the back end around into said wall of dirt to face the lane I had just been driving in. Oh and a wounded ego. Can't forget that.
The Blazer ended up being totaled. I am a car murderer. And to top it all off, while at the shop the Blazer was gutted and robbed. Something I feel pretty guilty of also. After all, if I hadn't of wrecked it, it wouldn't have been broken into.
Brandon's Blazer
And after all of that, Brandon still stood at the alter waiting for me to walk down the isle on our wedding day.
Proof he married me :)
Yup. I killed his baby and he still married me. That is an amazing man, right there. A true testament of love. And I am so very thankful for him. I am even thankful for his Fast and the Furious style driving. (Oh, it isn't THAT bad or THAT often, relax.) So here comes Part Two.
It was Day Two of our honeymoon (not counting the wedding day) and we were headed home so we could enjoy the last two days of our honeymoon in our fifth wheel before Brandon had to return to work (and so I could adjust to living with him) We pulled off Highway 101 on the Oregon coast to watch the sunset over the ocean and take a few pictures. It was still light-ish out when we got back in the car. My new uncle-in-law's cherry red, perfect Dodge Stealth that he had been kind enough to let us borrow. No sooner had we fastened our seat belts and started the engine when a car came speeding around the corner, pulled on to the lookout and rumbled straight for us. Brandon jammed the car in gear, jumped on the gas and steered the Stealth away from the approaching car (Fast and the Furious style). We were at a 45 degree angle when the car hit us. If it had been straight on, we both would have been severely (possibly even fatally) injured. If we had been out of the car we would have been instantly killed. If Brandon's window had been rolled up, his head would have crashed through it and he would have had millions of shards of glass in his skull.
The only one injured in this collision was the driver of the other vehicle. His wife was unharmed, and Brandon and I were bruised and sore at the most. The driver? His arm went through his airbag and got pretty ripped up. There was blood everywhere. This man was obviously drunk. His wife was kicking beer cans over the cliff so the police wouldn't see it. He was slurring and being kind-ish. They called friends who came and picked up his wife. After the police showed up (which took about an hour after our call), the driver of the other vehicle did a 180 and started blaming the accident on us, saying it was dark, he saw our headlights and was going to drive on the right of us, resulting in bouncing off the guardrail and crashing into us. However, we had photo evidence only minutes before we called 9-11. Photos of us right before the accident and photos of the car after the accident. It was light enough our lights made no difference and proved his story false. None of us mentioned that he was drunk. The other driver, obviously, because he didn't want to get in trouble, Brandon because he had a hunch but wasn't sure (and hadn't seen the wife kick the cans over the cliff) and I because I was so shaken up and sobbing because my new husband had almost been killed that I totally spaced it. However, the next day I remembered and we called it in, only to find out that the officer thought the man was drunk but wanted to do us a favor by not documenting it, because if he documented it, the other driver's insurance would not cover damages to my uncle-in-law's car, we would have to sue him for it instead.
Right after the accident. Pictures don't lie. (Also, you can see me crying on the side)
So, after surviving two car accidents not even a month apart, we had a whole lot of appreciation for each other and for life and we were so very thankful to still have each other.
And four years later, we're still appreciative and thankful.
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