Darwin Awards Here I Come

Printed on: Thu, May 31, 2007

Missing a chance at infamy

By Kelvin Wade

I've often told friends that I never wanted to be the victim of a "freak accident." No one wants their demise to be fodder for the Darwin Awards.

But like O rings in the Challenger disaster, little things can often add up to big problems. What happened to me last Friday, with apologies to Lemony Snicket, was a series of unfortunate events.

I'd had some minor setbacks during the day that put me in a grumpy mood. I was distracted, preoccupied. Being a distracted driver doesn't require a cell phone, CD or foodstuffs. One's thoughts are enough.

I was in my minivan on my driveway with the engine running, ready to take Lauryn, 10, and Kawika, 2, out for dinner. Lauryn was having difficulty fastening Kawika's car seat. Though the clasp is a bit snug, Lauryn is usually able to do it. However, earlier in the day, she'd injured the fingers on her right hand and she couldn't get it to close. It was a seemingly innocuous circumstance.

I told her I'd do it. So I set the parking brake, not realizing I'd left the car in reverse. While Lauryn buckled up in the front seat, I got out of the car, went to the back and fastened Vika in. As I got back to the driver's door, I did something boneheaded that I never do. Thinking the van was in park; I reached in and released the parking brake.

Shock turned to horror as the van began rolling down the driveway. I was in an awkward position overestimating my strength in keeping a Dodge Caravan in reverse from making it down a steep driveway. I was not the Incredible Hulk and I couldn't halt the car from rolling down to the street with one hand on the door and one on the wheel. I yelled to Lauryn, "Hit the brake! Hit the brake!" The van was in the street now and still rolling back. Lauryn reacted astonishingly fast, diving to the floor of the van. I thought this was about to come to a swift conclusion. That is, until I saw her reach down and press the accelerator to the floor.

Oh no, I'm dead, I thought to myself. Neighbors who witnessed the event later helped me piece together what happened next. I was knocked back over the front of the hood of a Camaro parked on the other side of the street landing hard on the sidewalk. I don't remember that part.

The open driver door on the van struck the front of the Camaro, bending it back the other way. Then the open door rolled over the lower half of my body, dragging me a bit, gouging painfully large patches of road rash on my backside, massively bruising my right thigh and slashing it open. The van continued up at an angle on the lawn across the street before Lauryn quickly pressed on the brake pedal.

I had the presence of mind to tell the neighbor standing over me calling 911 on my cell phone to go inside and call from a land line. And when the paramedics arrived and asked me who the President of the United States was, I even had enough sense to say, "Unfortunately, George Bush." But I couldn't kid myself. This had been a series of mistakes that resulted in something dangerous, that could've been fatal. As I laid on a gurney in the ER and a doctor stitched the laceration in my leg, I knew that I'd come too close to manifesting one of my biggest fears.

If I'm not vigilant, next time I may not be so lucky.