It was a cold clear winter's morning nearly 20 years ago. My then husband rose early as usual and left for the City, leaving me to dress and breakfast our two young sons, then pack them into the Land Rover and head out across country on the school run. I threaded the big car through the narrow single track lanes, occasionally pulling into a passing place to let another vehicle by, slowing carefully to take blind corners, passing farms and eerily silent, misty fields.
I kissed my five year old son goodbye as he ran into school, greeting his friends, exchanging news, rushing headlong into his day, then strapped my three year old into his car seat and turned the car round, back into the quiet lanes, doing a steady 40mph, Radio 4 playing quietly in the background.
The black and white cat came out of nowhere, streaked across our path. I braked hard and swerved to avoid it, just clipping the telegraph pole sitting too close to the edge of the narrow lane. The Land Rover turned through 90 degrees and crashed noisily to a halt on its left side, my son and I suspended by our seat belts, shocked, bruised but unharmed. With shaking hands I switched off the engine, terrified we would explode into flames, undid my seat belt and tried the door handles on the right side, completely disorientated. They were jammed solid. My son cried out, frightened, and I tried not to panic.
It seemed like hours but was probably only minutes before help arrived. Farm workers materialised from the seemingly empty fields, exclaiming, concerned. I managed to open a window, unstrapped my small son and passed him out to them, relieved to have him safe, then somehow extricated myself and crawled through the window after him, eager hands pulling me to safety. They took us to a nearby cottage, called the fire brigade and the police. Someone eventually drove us home.
If the telegraph pole hadn't been so close to the road, we would have avoided the accident. If I had been driving an ordinary car, we wouldn't have turned over. Land Rovers have a high centre of gravity and roll easily. We were lucky. We survived. The cat disappeared into the undergrowth and licked its paws pensively, eight lives left.
The Land Rover was a write-off. My then husband bought a field with the insurance payout and bought me a Volvo instead. Safe, but a little dull. I still miss the Land Rover though, it had bags of character.
A lovely serene description of what must have been anything but serene, Marianne!
ReplyDeleteHow calmly and quickly you seemed to have been able to think what to do. It reminds me (just a little) of that mother who somehow managed to get her two small boys out of their seatbelts just seconds before the car went over a cliff in Cornwall recently! When one thinks how hard it can sometimes be to unstrap children in normal circumstances, one thinks she must have had a guardian angel standing by.
Perhaps you did too?
And let's pray that the Pope will perhaps have provided one for little Maddy! If anyone can do it, it must surely be him. As A.N. Wilson said recently in one of his articles for the Telegraph... the Pope is the only person on earth who can include the word 'infallible' in his CV.
(Or have they dispensed with that one now, too?)
Frightening. At least Land Rovers are nothing if not sturdy, whatever their other failings.
ReplyDeleteIt's interesting how human nature makes us swerve to avoid animals on the road, when the sensible thing is to plough through them and save out own skins ...
Sahd
It's a simple gut reaction to swerve, regardless of the consequences. It really shouldn't have been a problem, it was just the wrong place by a fraction. It is the sort of thing that brings you up short though and I have watched too many films where the car turns over and bursts into flames. Sad about the Land Rover. I did love it.
ReplyDeleteI do love the idea of guardian angels, Beatrice, but you often can't find one just when you need one. I too hope little Maddy's is keeping her safe tonight.
I have twice been in potentially life threatening situations, and a strange calm does possess you. You have to think clearly and calmly. It's a survival instinct. And it is true that accidents happen in slow motion.
My cousin overturned her car. Her son, then aged around 5, had the presence of mind to switch off the ignition. Don't know the make of the car but, like you, he showed tremendous presence of mind. I'm not surprised every detail is etched into your mind.........
ReplyDeleteAnd for how many months did the adrenaline continue to course through your veins?
ReplyDeletethat sounds awful, I'm glad you came out unscathed. I have nightmares about having to extricate 4 small children from an overturned car...
ReplyDeletePigx
I have a friend who ahs 'trained' himnself not to swerve to avoid rabbits on the road.
ReplyDeleteFraid I aways swerve.
I bet that memory will always be very vivid for you.
Yes, you have to override that reaction, M&M, particularly if you live in the country. There are always animals in the road.
ReplyDeleteYou wouldn't believe how small a swerve it was too, to have such large consequences.
Don't have nightmares, PITK. I'm sure it will never happen to you. This has been my only serious accident so far in nearly 30 years on the roads. I'm touching my wooden desk as I write this.
I don't know how I knew to kill the engine, but it was entirely the right thing to do. Petrol did leak, I'm told. Your cousin's son did well OM.
As for the adrenaline - well it was hard to get into the driving seat again, like getting back on a horse when you've been thrown, I suppose.
A graphic description of an horrendous and obviously traumatic experience.
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