My friend James and I were ready to eat, but I can’t say that we were ready to call the police that night. We walked out my front door and started walking towards the nearest main road. I was about fifteen at the time so I couldn’t drive myself or anyone else around. We were both starving. As we were walking towards Sonic, the closest place to eat, we came up to the intersection that the Sonic is located at. We had to cross the street to get there, so we pressed the button on the street light to allow us to cross. Our dinner was in sight.
As we waited at the street corner for the lights to change, a small car took a very fast left turn across the intersection. As the car swiftly made its way across the intersection, an arm suddenly threw a large, empty, glass bottle out the driver-side window straight up into the air. James and I watched it go up, fall back towards earth, and then land with a “clank!” right in the intersection. Before either of us could say anything about the bottle or criticize the driver of the small car, a white minivan going about forty-five miles per hour ran over the 40oz bottle, resulting in pure chaos.
The minivan’s tire exploded on contact with the bottle. It sounded like a gun just went off. As if that wasn’t enough, the sudden loss of control took the van into a spin. The van did a full, screeching 180 degree rotation at forty-five miles per hour right in front of us. Without hesitation, the minivan slammed right into the median with all its speed, weight, and spinning force. Every window on the car except the windshield shattered into a million little pieces. Glass cascaded upon us because we were so close. I felt the tiny glass shards bounce off my face, jacket, pants, and shoes: my entire body. Neither of us was cut, nor did we care. We were both thinking about the guy who was actually in the car during the crash. Practically on queue after the minivan came to a stop, an undercover police car’s sirens and lights flipped on and the car went blazing across the intersection in the same path as the small, bottle-throwing car went. Justice came swiftly, I’m sure.
We were both in complete awe, but not senseless. The van was sitting perfectly on the median, now with a whole lot more damage than it had not even 3 seconds ago. From the sidewalk we shouted to the driver through his now-disintegrated window to see if he was hurt. He looked extremely shaken up and unnerved, and I really couldn’t blame him after what just happened to him and his vehicle. He told us he was fine about five times because we kept asking to make sure. It was just hard to believe that he was fine after such an intense collision. We proceeded to call the police to tell them what had happened so the driver of the minivan could get all the help he deserved.
After the chaos subsided it took us a while to realize we were still trying to eat, so we finally crossed the street and got some dinner, but our conversation stayed glued to the car crash. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time to see something truly unforgettable.
Looking back on what happened, I realize how lucky I was to see something like this. I’m also lucky that I didn’t get hurt.Depending on the placement of that fateful bottle, the van could’ve easily spun the other direction and then instead of the median, it would have hit James and me, which would have easily killed us. It shows that you really don’t have as much control of situations as you might think. Things can spin out of your control when you least expect it, a fact of life that I am used to by now. But the good thing I learned is that more often than not, people get what’s coming to them. The driver that threw the empty bottle was probably drunk, he littered, he totaled someone’s car, and then, out of nowhere, the police delivered him justice. If that’s not an example of karma, then I don’t know what is. If karma is real, as this event depicts it to be, then I really have no problem with being a good person and having good morals. Maybe the universe will pay me back for it someday, just as that criminal was paid back for his crimes.
© Copyright 2016 Jerricho Cliff. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Non-Fiction
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