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Below is a fact-based but fictional account of the crash and surrounding events. I wrote this after (and during) many nights of sleeplessness where I could think of nothing else but these details. I purposely made this as truthful and graphic as I could, using my own knowledge of the facts, people, and science involved. Besides it's expression, the intent of this story is to record and make others aware of these minute details and images to serve their interest and to bring the reality of what happened to anyone (including me) who has driven recklessly out of anger.
Out of respect, I have segregated this story, but at the end of the day it belongs here just as much as any other story or medium that fits the topic. If a description of the crash frightens or offends you, then please do not read it. Use this link instead:
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-Len |
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Fictional Account by
Leonard T. Marzigliano
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Tuesday afternoon, just like any other. Aimee picked up Phil from his apartment on Yates Street
and they headed out for a bite to eat. He had a license, but his van broke down months ago and he
hadn't put the cash together to fix it. He hated driving anyway, especially on the city streets. In the car, Philip and Aimee talked - the radio was just background noise - as conversation was the basis for their relationship. They weren't compatible any other way: sex, money, even love, all took a back seat to the simple companionship and conversation that they shared.
Near the ramps for Route 85, their car crested the short hill and coasted downward. This was where Washington Avenue becomes the Washington Avenue Extension, a faster moving county highway instead of a city street. A cautious and somewhat novice driver, Aimee stayed in the slower right lane and let the faster traffic go by. Almost like an optical illusion, a car facing theirs went from in the distance to right in front of them. Before either of them could react or speak or think of an escape plan it was too late - reflexes take over and brace for the impact by tightening muscles, clenching mouth and fists, and closing eyes at the very last second. Few people, like expert drivers and soldiers have burned into their brain the proper instinct do the opposite - relax and loosen up. Sometimes this makes the difference between just a few broken bones and paralysis. In this case, it wouldn't make any difference.
The cars slammed into each other - head on, dead center - with an immense amount of force and a deafening sound of destruction. The engine in Aimee's small Honda was pushed into the front seat - the steering column and wheel crushed her at the stomach and effectively cut her in half. Faster than you can blink, Philip's head flung downward and slammed straight into the dashboard covered frame of the car. The back of his head buckled inward from the impact, crushing every bone, muscle, and nerve in his neck,
cutting his vision and senses away from his brain. They were gone in
an instant. |
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