Nowadays, with emails and texts, I have learned that one must be extremely careful with the written word. A mis-directed or unintended word or phrase always results in consequences that were not at all the intent of the writer. So generally, pretty much always, I prefer a non-confrontational route when I put pen to paper.
Generally, that is.
Tonight, after a day to go over the possibilities hundreds of times and sort things out in my head, I am eternally thankful to our Maker but am mad as a hornet.
There is an individual lose on our streets who drives a dark monster truck who needs to be behind bars. He was chasing somebody in a smaller car, possibly a convertible and likely a friend who was of the opposite gender. I guess he was trying to impress her.
There are three lanes on Taft Highway and two of them are dedicated to uphill traffic. One lane is reserved for traffic going down the mountain. Up and downhill traffic is separated by a very clear double yellow line. Driver’s Ed 101: you don’t cross double yellow lines. Especially in a blind curve.
At nearly the foot of the mountain, our fearless idiot decided to pass the car in front of him so he stomped the gas and flung himself directly into the path of a 2006 Honda Accord that was coming the other way. The Honda was driven by my oldest son and the passenger was his brother. This is 40 percent of our family and what could have been every parent’s worst horror.
I lose sleep all the time about how my kids will react in a driving situation like that. What will happen in an immediate spot that requires an instant decision that will be violent and possibly kill but will kill less?
Thank God in Heaven my boy, who like me has bumped into things before in cars, came through. He whipped the wheel of his car to the right, do or die, and plowed into the ditch without having time to even hit the brakes. The first thing he said was “Yall okay?” A head-on had been avoided by mere inches.
I have never been more thankful or proud of anybody, ever.
Teddy, our terrier mix who likes to go rock climbing with my boys, was in my younger son’s arms and he lost his bowels as any sane dog would do in that situation. That was the extent of any kind of letting. My younger boy was in the bottom of the ditch, having been slammed by the side air bags, and he handed Ted out. “We’re good.” he said as he climbed vertically from the passenger side through the driver side door.
Again, thank God. This was so close. The Accord that my boy loves, the car I talked my Dad into buying, is totaled but it’s just a car. I am so thankful that I am here in front of this laptop as opposed to where I could be right now.
And I want to thank Iraq War veteran Officer Franks and his back-up, an older guy, who are of the Chattanooga Police Department. Officer Franks arrived with blue lights, which is scary, but he was the ultimate professional. Seeing that there had been no nonsense going on inside the car, these guys understood. One of them said he’d just been through the same thing with his daughter and both of them assured my son that, though he’d sacrificed his car, he’d done exactly what he was supposed to do and that he'd saved people’s lives. How good is that? I’m going to kiss a city cop today.
So here’s the venom.
There is a child out there who drives a dark, possibly black, jacked up late model four by four pick-up truck and he is stupid on a criminal scale. He may or may not live on Signal Mountain. Regardless, he is a coward with no character for not only did he not slow down, he never even looked back. He and the car he passed know exactly who they are and what I am talking about. They are a menace. At minimum, they owe State Farm and my boy another car and they need to receive a swift kick in the behind.
I hope somebody reading this knows this little moron. If you do, know now that your friend, brother or son almost decapitated two of my boys and then sped off to save his own skin. He had no concern at all as to whether they’d survived the wreck.