A Saturday Drive
On Saturday, I was listening to the radio as I drove through our neighborhood. I was headed to Chipotle Grill to pick up some dinner.I stopped at a stop sign, then turned right toward the parkway, a divided road separated by a grassy median.
When I did, I saw more information than my brain could process. Six police cars, all with red and blue lights flashing. A white ambulance. A red fire truck. A flat-bed tow truck carrying a black F-150.
Yellow police tape everywhere.
I could no longer hear the radio.
I knew right away, less than two blocks from our house, that I was looking at a fatality. There was too much police tape, too many officers blocking the scene.
I managed to turn around and re-route my trip, crossing the parkway further east and driving parallel to the accident scene. At first, I just felt a little uneasy, but I got progressively more rattled as I continued driving.
When I was in my twenties, I had no context for death. It was just a door that closed behind you. I didn't think about how it would affect anyone else.
In my forties, I fear death. I think about Eli 6.6, and Gloria, and my Mom. What they would feel. What I would miss not being with them.
Hell, I'd miss you guys, too.
The more grounded we are, the more death takes away. The older I get, the more I understand that, and the more I realize how quickly it can happen, how suddenly those connections can get cut.
At 4:59 p. m., North Central Area Command patrol officers responded to a collision at Scofield Ridge Parkway and Lamplight Village Avenue. It is believed that a black Lexus SUV was traveling south bound in the outside lane at a high rate of speed and was in the process of moving to the inside lane to pass another vehicle when it struck the center median causing the Lexus to roll several times.
The vehicle ended up on the west curb of Scofield Ridge Parkway on its wheels. The driver of the Lexus was not wearing a seatbelt and was pronounced deceased at the scene. Two juvenile passengers and an adult female passenger were transported to Brackenridge Hospital by Austin-Travis County EMS with minor injuries.
We watched the news on Saturday night and found out the driver was a woman, but she hadn't been identified.
On Sunday, I saw the accident scene as I drove by, and I stopped at the intersection.
The police had painted a series of red dashed lines to show her path into the median. The curb around the median is concrete, about six inches high, and the dashed lines led up to it. Then there was a trench in the grass where the SUV cut across before tipping and starting to roll.
The day before, a woman had family and friends and all kinds of connections to the world. After the accident, there were police cars and emergency vehicles and so many people.
The next morning, all that was left behind were some red dashed lines and a gash in the earth.
<< Home