How to destroy a Dodge Sundance
What better way to round out what was basically car week?
Fog scares me. The reason for that was an eery drive to school in my 1991 Dodge Sundance. It was March of 1995 and I was taking the back way to school. Well, one of the back ways. I had about 10 different routes to take.
It was my second most complicated trip to school possible. Take 10th St. North to Nolan Avenue. Take a right and speed. A lot. Do 50 MPH in a 35 MPH zone until you're out by the farms. Then do 60. You end up on Neal Avenue. Then hang a left on 30th and whiz past the Lake Elmo Airport, pictured right.
I remember three things about that drive. 1. I turned off the radio because it was surreal driving in the thick fog. 2. I saw one car go past me in 5 minutes of back-road driving. 3. This is the thickest fog I, to this date, have ever seen.
My ill-fated Sundance ended up on Manning Avenue. I proceeded toward school carefully and noticed there was no oncoming traffic. Which is very weird. This is a busy, two-lane stretch of 55 MPH road that's about 2 miles from one of the largest (and best at reading!) high schools in Minnesota. After about a minute of driving in the fog, I saw the brake lights ahead of me.
I absolutely slammed on the brakes. There was somebody in the back seat of the car in front of us, staring at me when my car came to a stop about 15 feet from him. Lucky guy. In a line of six or seven cars, there had already been a couple of accidents which had started when somebody stopped at the railroad tracks.
And now I was the last person in line, just waiting for the car behind me. 10 seconds go by. I started tapping the brake light, hoping against hope that would somehow signal the car behind me, wherever it was, that it should stop. 20 seconds go by. I took my hands off the steering wheel and tried to relax. Just in case I got hit. 30 seconds. Oh shit. Those headlights are coming fast.
It would have been lucky in that situation to have a Honda Civic or a Geo Metro emerge from the fog, because they wouldn't do as much damage. The white 1980-or-so Oldsmobile that hit my Sundance didn't have a scratch on it.
My car was wrecked. The entire trunk was shoved under the rear windshield. Tennis balls from my trunk were scattered on the road. Virtually unscathed, I found the insurance information and I got out of the car and walked into the grass aside the car.
We stood there in the grass, me and my 20-something assailant (the daughter of my eighth-grade gym teacher, it turned out). We were both shaking. In the fog, we would see a car come out and slam on its brakes. Sometimes you would hear the crash — a gawker chain-reaction crash had started on the other side of the road — and sometimes you would see it. Some kids from high school started running back down the road to warn an 18-wheeler they had seen.
As we exchanged insurance information, all we could hear was the screeching of tires. At least half the time, the screeching was followed by a crunch. It was something out of a movie. County police cars and state troopers began arriving. We asked one — who barely took the time to talk to us — what we should do. He asked if either of us were hurt. We said no and he told us to get the hell out of there, if we could. They needed traffic to clear.
I left my car on a side airport access road and hitched a ride to school with Emerson — yeah, the kid from The Big Story. When I called my Mom, to tell her what happened, she said, "Well, your Dad just got back from his stress test at the doctor. He's lying on the floor now. So we'll get out there when we can."
Later that day, under unusually warm, sunny skies for March, Dad and I went back to grab some junk out of the car. The Sundance was totaled. Which would lead to my Duster.
I don't remember ever seeing a newspaper story or TV story about this. There's certainly nothing online. And now I wonder: Does anybody else remember that day? Or is it just a surreal memory?
Fog scares me. The reason for that was an eery drive to school in my 1991 Dodge Sundance. It was March of 1995 and I was taking the back way to school. Well, one of the back ways. I had about 10 different routes to take.
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| The Lake Elmo Airport, the train tracks bottom right, the road top right. |
I remember three things about that drive. 1. I turned off the radio because it was surreal driving in the thick fog. 2. I saw one car go past me in 5 minutes of back-road driving. 3. This is the thickest fog I, to this date, have ever seen.
My ill-fated Sundance ended up on Manning Avenue. I proceeded toward school carefully and noticed there was no oncoming traffic. Which is very weird. This is a busy, two-lane stretch of 55 MPH road that's about 2 miles from one of the largest (and best at reading!) high schools in Minnesota. After about a minute of driving in the fog, I saw the brake lights ahead of me.
I absolutely slammed on the brakes. There was somebody in the back seat of the car in front of us, staring at me when my car came to a stop about 15 feet from him. Lucky guy. In a line of six or seven cars, there had already been a couple of accidents which had started when somebody stopped at the railroad tracks.
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| I wish Oldsmobile had made smaller vehicles. |
It would have been lucky in that situation to have a Honda Civic or a Geo Metro emerge from the fog, because they wouldn't do as much damage. The white 1980-or-so Oldsmobile that hit my Sundance didn't have a scratch on it.
My car was wrecked. The entire trunk was shoved under the rear windshield. Tennis balls from my trunk were scattered on the road. Virtually unscathed, I found the insurance information and I got out of the car and walked into the grass aside the car.
We stood there in the grass, me and my 20-something assailant (the daughter of my eighth-grade gym teacher, it turned out). We were both shaking. In the fog, we would see a car come out and slam on its brakes. Sometimes you would hear the crash — a gawker chain-reaction crash had started on the other side of the road — and sometimes you would see it. Some kids from high school started running back down the road to warn an 18-wheeler they had seen.
As we exchanged insurance information, all we could hear was the screeching of tires. At least half the time, the screeching was followed by a crunch. It was something out of a movie. County police cars and state troopers began arriving. We asked one — who barely took the time to talk to us — what we should do. He asked if either of us were hurt. We said no and he told us to get the hell out of there, if we could. They needed traffic to clear.
I left my car on a side airport access road and hitched a ride to school with Emerson — yeah, the kid from The Big Story. When I called my Mom, to tell her what happened, she said, "Well, your Dad just got back from his stress test at the doctor. He's lying on the floor now. So we'll get out there when we can."
Later that day, under unusually warm, sunny skies for March, Dad and I went back to grab some junk out of the car. The Sundance was totaled. Which would lead to my Duster.
I don't remember ever seeing a newspaper story or TV story about this. There's certainly nothing online. And now I wonder: Does anybody else remember that day? Or is it just a surreal memory?
I remember that day. That was a hell of a fog. I guess for once my habitual lateness to school paid off, because by the time I drove up Manning people were running alongside the road, waving and yelling to slow down. Thanks to them I was able to slowly weave my way through the numerous wrecked cars (including yours I guess). Thank goodness no one was hurt. I don't think I've ever seen fog that thick since.
ReplyDeleteJim, I definitely remember that day. I remember hearing about the accidents by the airport on TV that evening. It is not just a surreal memory. :)
ReplyDeleteI did not see this coming. At the beginning of the week I TOTALLY thought it was going to be dog week.
ReplyDeleteSabrina and Jenny: Thanks for telling me you remember! It just seems like such an isolated memory because nobody I talk with/hang around with now was there.
ReplyDeleteSarah: Every week is dog week. Do I need to do one special?
I have returned from a trip to the dirty south.
ReplyDeleteWhy did you have that many tennis balls in your trunk? This seems odd to like this post because it involved an accident. So, the point is for the fact that you and your tennis balls were ok. 35-5-4.