why seatbelts are good to have.

Part 1: I went to see the mid-wife. She was a new one (my HMO has thousands, and I will meet them all unless I pick one I love the best), and very Southern. I like how real, true Southerners talk--they keep me on my toes as I try to translate from English to English, which I'm fairly expert at, I'd like to say. But she had the croup. I didn't say this to her, but if I suddenly get the croup, I am going to be so very annoyed because I just got over a really bad cold and when you're pregnant you can't take anything for bad colds and the croup except low powered Sudafed and low powered Sudafed totally doesn't work. I won't sue, though, because she was sweet and funny and she gave me all good news, like: My blood type is A+ (I have always been an honor student), I do not have the HIV, and I do not have the Syphilis. Also, I am Rh positive and immune to Rubella, and she said those 2 things are super good and I will be very thankful about those. Quite frankly, I'm much more glad to find out I do not have HIV or syphilis. Those 2 things always sound so much more worrisome to me, since they involve death and all.

Part 2: Then I went home. As I was driving, the (and take notes here if you live in the Atlanta, GA area—you are to be on the lookout for this dipshit, and if you see them driving around...and oh, you'll notice them all right...you are to write down their license plate number and give it to the police) 2008 black Chevy Tahoe or Ford Explorer in front of me stopped. Just freaking STOPPED. For no good reason, except they just felt like stopping, in the middle of a 3-lane, busy highway. And so, I did what you're supposed to do when that happens: I stopped too.

But the tow truck driver behind me did NOT do what you are supposed to do. No, he was paying attention to the road…300 feet AHEAD of him, not in front. And so, as I was thinking to myself, thinking things like: WTF? Why are you just…STOPPING? In the middle of the road?? Jesus God, I swear. Why are there so many idiots in this area, and why do *I* have to get behind them all?? Just as I was thinking that, and turning to look over my shoulder to see if it was clear to go around the Stupid Stopper, I saw "Q" in his tow truck, coming right up on me at 40+ miles an hour…and Q was NOT stopping, no not stopping at all, even though when I realized he was not going to stop I did yell at him, very loudly, to Stop! Stop! STOP!! before I started screaming.

Sadly, Q did not hear me.

Because he did not hear me, he plowed into the back of me, which made me have to plow into the back of the Stupid Stopper. Which they so totally deserved, I'd like to say here. Who just...STOPS...in the middle of the friggin' street??

The Stupid Stopper appeared to be stupidly stunned. But then, we all were. Because there had been no one in front of the Stupid Stopper, thus no reason for them to stop at all, and also the traffic light ahead of them was completley green and had been that way for about 2 hours. But my car would no longer drive, it was mangled and wrecked, and I am pretty sure I heard it start sobbing with grief and shock. Or maybe that was me, crying with relief when I realized I was in one piece.

Q jumped out of his truck and made sure I was okay. The Stupid Stopper drove on up ahead to a side road…and then? As soon as they could see nothing bad had happened to me? That Stupid Stopper and Official Dipshit just…DROVE. They drove off. With their back end all mangled and wrecked, and their back bumper half on-half off, forlonly scraping the road.

My Piscean super psychic powers tell me they probably did this because they (a) weren't in this country legally and didn't want to get arrested, (b) couldn't speak English and didn't want to get arrested, (c) automatically assumed it was their fault and didn't want to get arrested, (d) didn't have insurance and didn't want to get arrested, or (e) realized--quite possibly for the first time in their entire lives--they are a major, major disphit. Gosh, I wish there was a law that could arrest people for being dipshits. I'll vote for whichever Presidential candidate wants to make that a federal mandate.

My vote is for (e). Because honestly, hello, dumb driver—yes it was your fault, but not technically according to the Law of the Road. In the end, Q was the one who got the citation because the deal when you're in charge of a dangerous piece of Metal of Death is: you're supposed to watch where you're going, right in front of you, not 300 feet ahead of you. And you're not supposed to be barreling down a highway over the speed limit.

I was okay physically—mostly, I was worried about the baby (who, after an emergency room and then a follow up doctor visit, turns out to be doing just doing fine and dandy, blissfully unaware that, for a brief moment, his/her mother saw both of them smushed up like smushed up pancakes between a big ass tow truck and a big ass SUV, dead because some crazy person decided then would be a great time to pull over for no good reason in a really dumb spot).

And then, when I wasn't worried about the baby inside of me, I started to mourn for my car. Because 4 professional people looked at it and they all said: "Oh yeah. There's no way to fix that. That car is totaled." (We did tell this to my insurance people, but they are holding out hope their adjuster will come back with different ideas.) (Insurance people are eternally optimistic like that, yet ironically not on their own clients' side 9 out of 10 times.) (According to my husband, who works for an insurance company, I would like to point out.)

And so here are 11 things I learned from this scary thing that happened:

1. Always wear a seatbelt. It will save you, like, every time.

2. Screaming at tow trucks to stop usually doesn't work.

3. Neither does screaming at the car in front of you to GO, GO OH MY GOD WHY DON'T YOU GO, particularly once the tow truck has already launched you forward motion into the car in front of you.

4. Some people really, really lack good character. And reasoning skills. And there is nothing you can do about it.

5. You can get attached to cars.

6. Fortunately, they are replaceable.

7. And usually, when things like this happen, God was probably telling you: time to make a fresh start.

8. Car insurance companies hate it when God does that.

9. The Atlanta area has some doctors with really strange names: in the emergency room, I was registered to be with Dr. Sue, but I got Dr. Swami instead. Dr. Swami was super nice, very athletic, and I bet he's what Johnny Depp would look like if he shaved his head bald. I also got to see Dr. Harms again, the one with kind blue eyes and a good sense of humor, who told me not to worry about cars and driving—just jump back on the saddle again, because when it's your time to go, it's just your time to go. Dr. Harms always gets excited whenever he does the ultrasound and shows you the baby parts.

10. Here is how I react in traumatic situations (terrorist situations, nuclear bombs, school intruders, Apocolyptic type ends to the world, etc.): first I scream. Then I become very calm and rational; I leave out some of the details, but I get the important ones like first I have to call the police, and next I have to call home, and finally I have to call the insurance company. After that, I get really mad and start thinking about voodoo hexes on black SUV dumb drivers. And then I call my employer to let them know what happened and I probably won't come to work tomorrow, and midway through the conversation, I start sobbing and can't stop for the next 2 hours. And then I'm okay until the next day at 3 PM, when I suddenly start crying again for no apparent reason.

11. Always, always wear a seatbelt. Even if you are in a rental car that you don't like as much as your dead car.

In loving Memory of Nissan, the black Altima: