Yesterday I said goodbye to a car that had been with me for almost twelve years.
In December of 2011 I was involved in a car accident that should have killed me. I was at the traffic light at the bottom of an exit ramp making a left-hand turn in my 2000 Pontiac Grand Am. Someone driving a Yukon Denali XL blew the red light talking on his cellphone and hit my driver’s-side door going 65 mph. Yes, he was speeding, too. The frame of my vehicle rolled instead of crushing inward while the door itself was pushed inward almost to the center gearshift. Somehow, I made it out the passenger door and into the median. I don’t remember that. What I do remember is the first officer on scene asking “where’s the driver of the Grand Am?” and when he noticed me asked
Why aren’t you dead?
Yeah. It was that bad.
Now, I said the driver was “someone” but I still remember his name from the police report, which contained this wonderful statement:
I don’t know what happens. I was on my cell phone. Why can’t I leave? It’s not like anyone died?
That was very helpful when dealing with the insurance, and even then it took almost six months to settle. I should have gone for more than I did, especially since now I have a permanently bad back.
We replaced that car with a somewhat newer Pontiac, and it gave us many wonderful years. But as it approached it’s twentieth year on the road things started wearing out and it got to the point that making it road-safe would cost more than the car was actually worth.
So, this week, we made the decision to call the scrapyard and get what we could for it. Farewell, faithful steed:
Running In My Head 
I’m glad your post-accident car took care of you as long as it did! I’m sorry that you needed a “post-accident” car though. The driver’s comments made my stomach lurch—is killing someone the line at which he has to feel concern, responsibility, compassion?? Ugh. Here’s to many years and many miles with your next ride!
LikeLiked by 1 person