Crash
- Paul Cotter
- Sep 10
- 2 min read
My summer sabbatical started with a bang. It was a violent collision that came out of nowhere, shook us to the core and deepened our understanding that life is as fragile as a porcelain teacup perched precariously on the edge of a shelf.
Bonnie and I were driving with our two-year-old granddaughter Sophie to pick up some fresh fruit at a nearby farmer’s market. I approached a traffic light that was green in my direction, so I continued into the intersection. I was about halfway through it when – BAM! – a car coming from our right plowed into us, ramming our front passenger corner. The impact of two front ends colliding at full speed caused the airbags to explode in our faces.
In a moment like this, time stops. Thinking stops. Everything stopped except our car, which spun 90 degrees and ended up facing the wrong direction, adding to the overwhelming feeling of disorientation.
Our car was totaled, but the engine was still running. “Turn the car off,” Bonnie said as a powdery smoke billowed from the airbag discharge. I tried, but I was too dazed to move or think clearly.
Sophie, who was strapped in a rear-facing car seat in the back, didn’t have a scratch on her. Thank God for that. Bonnie and I ended up in the emergency room, and while the X-rays showed that no bones were fractured, we’re still feeling the effects of the crash three months after it happened. For me, it’s an injured thumb. For Bonnie, the impact was more damaging: She’s receiving ongoing treatment for back pain and counseling for the psychological trauma that was triggered by the collision.
All of this happened because an 80-year-old woman drove through a red light, unaware of what she was doing. She explained to police that the red light “didn’t register” with her.
When Bonnie and I went to the salvage yard to retrieve personal items from our demolished car, we saw rows upon rows of mangled vehicles, many of them twisted beyond recognition. It's a chilling reminder that life hangs by a thread, a slender thread that can be severed at any time – even when you’re just one mile from home, driving to get some fresh summer peaches.
Photographer’s Footnote: I took this photo of a reflection in a shattered window in San Francisco in 2016.
