|Our family in 2007|
I sailed through the intersection and in slow motion the scene unfolded in front of me. My van, a four door sedan coming from the right, the collision right on top of the manhole, the slow, scraping journey of momentum that took us to the curb on the other side.
I was stunned. It was my first accident and to top it all off I had someone else's precious teenage daughter in my passenger seat! As steam poured out from under my hood I looked behind us to see what had happened to other car. It was full of people and they were starting to get out. Four tiny little ladies. Long black and white cloth. I couldn't believe my eyes: I had hit a car full of nuns!
The neighbors started pouring out of their houses to see what had happened. It isn't every day you see four nuns in a car wreck. Someone let me use their cellphone to call Dennis. It took me about 10 tries to get my shaking hands to dial the number properly. The police came. One of the nuns was taken to the hospital to get checked out; she had been very shaken by the crash. It appeared that no one had been seriously hurt.
Right away I admitted to the policeman that I had been at fault but he still crossed himself when I told him that perhaps the nuns had been speeding. Maybe if I had whipped out my habit I usually keep in the back seat he would have been scared to give me a ticket?
After it was all over and I rode away from the scene one impression lingered in my mind- the sight of the travelling saint bobble-head figurine on the dashboard of the nuns' car, nodding away vigorously.