I heard the siren, 300 yards away,
over on the Interstate highway. "Must be a wreck," I
thought, then went back to work on my houseboat. Minutes later the
phone rang. Barbara soon came running out to me with the phone. The
police were calling. Son Corey and his family were involved in a wreck.
Three in the car, one ejected . Come to the Emergency room. Just the
bare facts.
We arrived at the Emergency room
well ahead of the ambulance. We were anxiously awaiting when the
Ambulance showed up. Caylie came out first, just a baby, strapped
tightly to a board, and screaming her head off. She looked around,
within her limited field of vision, and saw Barbara and I. She
stopped screaming, and smiled at us. We have never seen a smile quite
so beautiful. Christi came next. She was also strapped down, but
seemed alert, responsive, and, everything considered, remarkably
calm. Corey was not in the ambulance.
He arrived moments later in a car.
When he got out, he was beyond emotional. Way beyond that. As best he
could, he was telling us he was driving behind Christi, in his car. A
wheel had came off a trailer they were about to pass, hit her car in
front, and the car did end over end flips, at least 12 rolls, then
another flip, landing upside down. He reached through the broken back
window, cutting his arm, and got Caylie out, but could not get
Christi out. He was too racked by emotion to tell us more. Well, I
knew Corey was totally distraught, probably in shock, far too upset
for me to buy into all that. Nobody could have survived what he had just related to us.
It was determined that Caylie
and Christi had only scratches and bruises, no broken bones, and as
far as they could tell, no internal injuries, but Christi had a
concussion, and both were cut up by flying objects in the car. Corey
settled down enough that we began to get the whole story.
The family was driving home from
church, driving both cars because Christi had early choir practice.
They both stopped at Westerm Sizzlin', at mile marker 73 of I -30.
Being Easter Sunday, it was closed, so they and their friends decided
to drive on down to Wendy's, at exit 78. Corey buckled Caylie into
her infant seat, strapped in the middle of the back seat. Starting to
his car, for some reason, he stopped, turned around, went back to
Caylie, and tightened up all the straps really good. Corey followed
Christi in his car.
Approaching mile marker 74,
Christi started to pass a pickup pulling a horse trailer. A wheel
came off the trailer, hit the front of the car. That broke the car's
front axle, starting the series of end over end flips and rolls,
ending upside down in the median, with one last end over end flip,
right beside mile marker 74.
Corey pulled up behind. Later, a
friend who happened to be nearby described the horrible sounds of
anguish from Corey as he rushed to the car. Caylie was hanging upside
down. The only way he could get to her was through the broken back
window, which he did, cutting his arm. When Caylie emerged, he
checked her over as quickly as he could, passed her off to a stranger
standing beside him, saying, "Don't leave my sight with this
baby," and rushed to Christi. As he tried to get her out, a fire
started. A man from the interstate showed up with a fire
extinguisher, and put it out. Christi was hanging upside down, and he
could not get her out. About that time, the ambulance and police
arrived. They had trouble getting her out, having to use the Jaws of
Life.
Once Christi was out, and being
strapped to a board, a paramedic tried to get Corey on a stretcher.
Corey was bleeding more than anyone
there, and the paramedic would just not believe he had not been in
the car, and ejected.
Christi, not one to get unduly
excited, later described her thought processes as the wreck
progressed. "Well, that's one more flip, and I'm still alive!"
The car was a mess. Completely
flattened on top, except for the two places where a human could have
possibly survived. They just happened to match the two places where
Christi and Caylie were.
The paramedics working the wreck
said that upon arrival, they had no expectations of finding anybody
alive, much less a 4 month old baby. They added that the car seat
straps were so loose, one more roll and she would have flown. Good
thing Corey had just tightened them up.
I went to the site the next day.
Car parts were strewn along the road. From the location of the first
car part thrown off, to the final destination of the wrecked car, 100
yards. Twelve rolls and three flips? You be the judge. Our family
dodged two major bullets that day.
We are always being told, wear
your seat belts, all the time, most accidents are within one mile of
home. Well, my family has been in seven accidents, mostly minor, none
fatal. How many within one mile of home, as the crow flies? Five. For
your own safety, please do as I say, but in all honesty, not
necessarily as I do. I hate being hypocritical.
Caylie, early on, assumed the role
of seat belt enforcer in our family. Nobody is perfect, but I sure
haven't found any flaws in her yet. At 18, she just got her first
car, right after returning from the mission fields of Jamaica. God,
it seems, had his reasons for sparing this girl.
If you live near Arkadelphia,
judge this story for yourselves. The car came to rest even with mile
marker 74. The first car part thrown off was even with the brown sign
just west of it.
This story had been in my head
nearly 18 years. It automatically replays, in living color, every
time I drive by those two signs. I now know the story very well. I
needed no notes to write this.
My son- in- law, Mickey, a
paramedic, described a roll over wreck they worked. A man was dead,
but no marks were found on his body. Finally, a round mark that looked just
like the top of a coke bottle was found on his temple. Every loose,
even modestly heavy object becomes a deadly missile in a rollover
wreck.
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