Memoirs of a Fat Girl

Jess, myself and our dog were driving through a residential area in a rental car, on our way to have lunch with my parents. It was a few days after Christmas, and it was wet and slushy outside.

My family has been using this shortcut for years. You could just jump off the highway and into Mom's and Dad's neighbourhood, but getting off one exit earlier and driving through one of the finest areas in the city saves a few minutes, and is very pictureseque. The massive Tudor and Victorian houses are nearing the one-century mark; the trees tower above you, dads make homemade skating rinks on the lawns for their kids. If you were to ask me of a place where nothing ever went wrong, if such a place existed, I would think of this.

It is postcard perfect, with limits. The speed limit is 40 kilometres per hour. There's a Stop sign every 100 metres or so.

We had just passed a stop on one curved street, and there was a red car behind us. Jess was steering with his left hand, coffee in his right. I'd put my tea in the holder and was singing to a Green Day song on the radio. Bluetooth was in the backseat, looking out the window.

I've never wanted to use the phrase "all of a sudden" in any of my writing, but in this case, I can't avoid it. All of a sudden, from out of nowhere, this beat up old blue car passes on our left and cuts right in front of us. The driver is going at least 150. He's going so fast, he can't get the car to straighten up on the road in time, and loses it on the curve. Before me or Jess could get out a complete "what the hell," the blue car barrels head on into a tree, and flies a good 20 feet up into the air. It crashes down on its roof.

Jess saw the driver's legs as he was catapulted through the windshield, and figures the car landed on top of him. I am thankful to have missed this. I am also thankful for Jess' quick thinking when he saw the wreck start to spark and pulled out of danger's way in case of an explosion. Yet another thing I am thankful for was his yelling, which jolted me out of my shock. I called 911, and tried to ignore a construction worker who'd run to the accident recoil in shock and scream, "He's dead!"

The dispatcher on 911 had asked us to stick around and give a statement, so I called my parents to let them know we would be late.

Then I called my sister, and started to cry.