A Rocker and a Hard Place

by Keane, Hunter J.

  I could feel Happy Helen retreating back inside and Debbie was climbing her way out. “This cannot be a good sign,” she thought and I couldn’t help but agree with her.

  After pulling my car onto the shoulder of the road, I climbed out to assess the damage. My car, as well as the cars immediately in front of and behind me, had all escaped severe damage and were still drivable. The two cars at the head of the pack, and the original cause of the accident, were not so lucky and were still on the highway blocking traffic. Fortunately, all of the drivers and passengers seemed to have escaped serious injury.

  As we waited for the police to arrive, I couldn’t help thinking that my three hour trip was not going to be over any time soon. Once again, Debbie was speaking in my head. “I knew something like this would happen. We should have stayed in Chicago.”

  I physically shook my head and muttered to myself, trying to push those negative thoughts away and just focus on being glad that I wasn’t hurt. The man who had been driving the car in front of me noticed the outward signs of my inner struggle.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, slightly concerned, but mostly trying to keep from laughing at me.

  “Define ‘alright’,” I replied, frowning. I was still upset and didn’t appreciate his humorous take on my situation. “I just got in a car accident. Do you think I’m ‘alright’?”

  “Good point. ‘Alright’ is a bit ambiguous. Let’s start over.” He paused for a moment, as if he wasn’t certain it was even worth it to continue a conversation with me. Apparently, he decided that it was, because he continued.

  “I’m Benson McCormick,” he said, holding out his hand and waiting for me to reciprocate. What kind of a name was Benson McCormick?

  “Helen,” I replied. “Helen Whicker.” I stared for a moment at his outstretched hand before finally grasping it with my own. Apparently my attitude wasn’t the only thing that was cold, because he reached into his pockets and pulled out a pair of gloves.

  “Put these on, Helen,” he said, holding them out to me. “They’re a little big, but they’ll keep you warm.”

  I started to reject his offer, but then realized how cold my hands were and that I would probably be standing in the cold for quite a while longer. “Thank you,” I said, taking the gloves. I managed a smile despite my sour mood. As I slipped the gloves on, I immediately felt warmer and decided to try warming up my attitude as well.

  “So, Benson, did you see what happened?” I nodded my head toward the two cars that were still blocking traffic. Police sirens could be heard in the distance.

  He looked at the cars. “The white Ford cut in front of the SUV. The SUV driver tried to swerve out of the way but didn’t make it. He hit the Ford, and I hit him. And then you hit me.” Immediately he glanced my way, checking my reaction. For some inexplicable reason, he seemed to be afraid of me.

  “Hmm,” was my initial response. Why was I having trouble forming a coherent thought? I had to be in shock. Also, why did I care if this complete stranger didn’t like my attitude? I don’t know why, but I did care.

  “And here I thought you were just a shitty driver,” I quipped, hoping my lame attempt at humor would lighten the mood a bit.

  He chuckled slightly, and responded, “That would normally be a safe assumption. But no, this time it was not my fault.”

  I noticed that he was one of those rare people who actually smiled with his eyes. I, however, was one of those rare people who could frown with her eyes- try it some time. At that moment, two police cars and an ambulance arrived. A fire truck could be seen about a half-mile back.

  “Hope you weren’t running from the law,” he continued, keeping with our poor attempt at humorous banter.

  “Not in this state,” seemed to be the appropriate response.

  By now the police had reached our location and they began to interrogate, er… interview, us. We answered all of their questions, gave them the appropriate personal information, and showed them the damage our vehicles sustained. I was told more than once that it was a good thing I was such a terrible person that hated the planet and still drove an SUV or my vehicle would have been damaged much worse.

  Okay, maybe no one said those exact words but I could tell they were thinking it. As it was, I had a couple of cracked and dented bumpers, some scratched paint, and a couple of broken lights. Things certainly could have been worse.

  Benson, too, seemed to have been lucky. The damage to the front-end of his pickup was minimal. Since he had seen the accident take place, he had been able to brake before impact. My SUV had banged up the rear of his truck, but the bumper had done its job pretty well.

  The car behind me had only sustained damage to the front, with just a dented bumper and broken headlight. The two cars involved in the initial impact were pushed into the right lane while the owners wait for tow trucks. The other drivers were all blabbing into their cell phones, probably calling family, insurance companies, and repair shops. I wasn’t even sure where I put my cell phone. Was there someone I should be calling?

  The police finally finished collecting data and we were told we could leave. Naturally, we had to promise to get any broken lights fixed immediately. I glanced at my watch and saw that I had been standing there for over an hour, making polite small talk with a complete stranger.

  “Are you going to be okay to drive?” Benson asked me, ever the gentleman. I noticed that he was edging toward his vehicle, apparently in a hurry to get somewhere. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had been inconvenienced.

  “As okay as I ever am,” was my reply. “Thanks for the stimulating conversation,” I said, opening my car door.

  Benson smirked and got into his truck. “Good luck!” he yelled before driving away. As I got into my own car and reached over to turn the key, I realized that I was still wearing his gloves.

  Sign up for Hunter’s mailing list here.