The Crash

(Story contains graphic description)    It had been a long day of driving from Nebraska through the lower half of Wyoming where the lanes of freeway snake forward for hours of monotonous driving. The horizon barely changes after a full day of driving. I needed a break and pulled into a rest area to change drivers. We had intended to drive a few more hours before finding a motel but that was not meant to be. As we merged onto the freeway I looked up and across the wide grassy divide between the east and west lanes of the interstate I noticed a large black pickup truck make a couple of swerves then enter the divide where it nosed over and started a slow motion end over end cartwheel. Metal began breaking apart and what was once a vehicle quickly became a black ball of twisted metal. I yelled out and pointed to the mass as it moved to our side of the freeway. We swerved to the outside lane just as the truck slid feet in front of our moving car, passing and landing across the lanes into a field. It was a flash of awareness that saved us. An instant of black shiny metal, a body being dragged and the blood that hit our windshield continues to fill me with the dread of that moment. We pulled over and I jumped out looking back at the carnage. Cars quickly pulled over and people began to run towards the site. Seconds later flashes of lights signaled the arrival of the Wyoming State Patrol. Our five year old daughter sat in the car and looked back and calmly stated that she didn’t think the people in the truck were ok and that they did not make it. I grabbed a shirt and quickly started wiping the front windshield while Rebecca kept our daughter distracted. An exit was a couple hundred yards ahead and all I could think of was washing the rental car. As the state patrol were on site we got in our car and took the exit to the congregation of hotels and gas stations where upon I was able to find a car wash and quickly with my whole body still shaking washed away someone. Neither of us could drive any longer so we pulled into a parking lot of a large motel and checked in. Once in the room our five year old daughter found a bible in a drawer and began singing God Bless the Little Children. This wise little soul then insisted that we go swimming in the motels indoor swimming pool. All of us changed and upon entering the water I stopped shaking. It was if the water slowly began to wash away the terrible event and the thoughts of our own survival. Our small child knew how to take care of us. Rock Springs, Wyoming