Was it thirty seconds or thirty minutes I had been stranded there, flipped sideways with nothing but the road and the black of night surrounding me?

 

The cold sunk in, my teeth chattered, and my body shook. Of course, the student section had to have picked beach night for a basketball game. In my short-sleeved button-up and tank top, I suddenly regretted not wearing a coat “just in case,” like my dad told me a million times. I didn’t know how much time passed, but after what seemed like forever, a car finally drove by. Thoughts of “Please stop, please see me” desperately ran through my mind. 

 

I didn’t even know how this happened. On the drive home, I happily sang along to upbeat music. All of a sudden, I swerved over to the side of the road. I turned my wheel sharply, and the next thing I knew, I opened my eyes to the icy, snow-covered ditch in front of me and the broken glass that lay scattered on top of it. My car sat flipped on its side. In a split second, my night changed from carefree, with the freedom of finally having the ability to drive, to filled with dread and worry. 

 

The loud, happy music continued to play in the background, while I sat in shock, trying to figure out what to do. I hung suspended in the air, my seatbelt holding me in. “My parents are going to be so mad at me,” was the first thought that crossed my mind. My house stood in sight, and I thought, “I guess I’m walking home.” I went to unbuckle my seatbelt so I could climb out, but I couldn’t undo it.

 

At that moment, the fear and panic set in. “What if nobody drives by? I’m going to freeze to death. How am I ever going to get out?" The thoughts raced through my mind. I frantically searched around for my phone. I finally spotted it, sitting all the way on the passenger side of the car against the window. I reached for it, but it lie just barely out of my grasp. At that point, there was only one thing I could think to do— sit there and wait.

 

My house was in sight, but I had no way to get there or reach anybody at home. My legs and arms ached from the position I couldn’t escape, trapped by my seatbelt. 

 

Finally, headlights in the distance cut through the dark. To my relief, the truck came to a stop on the road in front of me. A man I didn’t recognize stepped out of the truck and came over to the side of my car. He helped me open the heavy car door I had struggled to hold open on my own. “My seatbelt is stuck, I can’t get out.” My voice trembled as I struggled to find the words to describe my situation.

 

The man asked me my name and where I lived. He was my neighbor’s grandpa, and luckily he had given my neighbors a ride home from the game that night. He headed back to his truck and made a call to find out if somebody could bring something to cut my seatbelt. I calmed down a bit, having somebody there to help me and knowing I had not gone unnoticed.

 

He came back and said, "somebody is on the way." 

 

Not long after, another car came to a sudden stop behind the truck. I recognized it immediately as my brother’s car. I forgot he had work until late. He happened to come across my car in the ditch on his way home. Relief flooded his face as he ran over and realized that I couldn’t get out, but had nothing wrong with me. He hurried back to his car and opened the trunk, leaving me confused. “What could he possibly have in there that would be helpful right now?” I wondered.

 

Luckily, he came back with the wire cutters he used at work. My brother and the man helped me cut apart the seatbelt. They held the door open while I climbed out. I hadn’t really wrapped my head around the events of the night. “Whose blood is this?” I paused to ask my brother while halfway out. He just shook his head and told me it didn’t matter. Still in some odd type of shock, I continued to climb out. 

 

When I got out, I went up to the man to say thank you. I asked the man if he had called my dad, hoping he would say no, dreading the anger I anticipated from him. He said yes and that my dad was on the way. I don’t know why this made me scared, it’s not like I could hide this from my parents for long. They would obviously find out eventually when I didn’t have a car. My dad’s car pulled up, and immediately I ran to hug him. 

 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I repeated over and over again. 

 

“It’s okay,” my dad replied. 

 

I settled down, but instead of scolding me as I had expected, he reassured me.  I went back to thank the man again, and then got into the warm car while my dad, brother, and the man all stood there talking.

 

My dad came back to the car and got on the phone with my mom. The sound of her voice immediately set off the tears I had been holding back the whole night. During the short trip down the gravel road to my house, I sat there silently picking the glass out of my clothes and shoes, running the accident in my mind over and over again. When I got home, I sat in the kitchen for a long time talking to my family about it all. Although I lost my ability to drive for months after that, I ended up grateful that everything worked out, and it didn’t turn out as bad as it could have.

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