No, I was not in an accident today.  But I witnessed one, and I can still feel the sound in my core.  I've seen a good few accidents in my day, but today's was probably the worst.  It was bad enough to close Rt. 100 in both directions during rush hour.  I've only had a few personal experiences with car accidents, obviously thanks to some patron deity as I have hardly been cautious in my life, and they've all been minor.  They were still terrifying.  I recall the same impression of noise and emotion when I was inside the car as today when I was an observer.

I saw today's accident from a distance.  I heard it more than I saw it, really.  I was standing in the parking lot of Michael's Crafts when someone hit another car on Rt. 100.  The lot is an average suburban big-chain-store strip mall lot, making the highway only a few hundred feet away; but the lot was dug low to level it so the road is up a high berm.  I didn't see the crash itself, but I saw the cars spinning and sliding away after the impact, people trying to regain control of their vehicles and other people trying to avoid hitting them, folks pulling over to help.

In movies, an accident sounds like smashing glass, screeching metal, squealing tires.  Sounds that keen, cry, scream.  Sounds that heighten your senses, make you feel like you are (or would be if it were you in the accident) alert, hyped, adrenaline-rushed to react.  They go on a long time, then they go silent.

In real life, the sound is a deadened thud that you feel deep in your soul, that takes your breath away.  It's a deep, guttural crunch.  There may be a little tinkle of glass or a brief squeal of tires, but those pale in comparison to the BOOM of the crash itself.  It is a crunch of metal on metal, but it's so deep and vivid that it feels in your gut like a crunch of bones.  When something so violent comes out of nowhere, at first it feels like you must be mistaken, that didn't really happen, you misheard something; then you feel like you were tackled by it.

The world does not go silent afterward.  Life around the accident goes on as normal, which feels surreal.  Everybody who felt the boom is still shaking, still feels the vibration in their guts, knows that the world just changed inexorably even if it's for total strangers.  Yet birds are still singing, engines and tires are still humming, radios are still playing. 

Fortunately, my girls were already in the store.  I'd stepped back out for something I'd forgotten.  They didn't have to see or hear it.  I'd been having a grumpy and stressful afternoon and had been struggling to stay on an even keel with the girls.  When I went in the store and saw them playing with some of the Schleich figurines near the door, my grumpiness evaporated and I was so thankful they were there, safe and happy.

My thoughts and love go out to the people who were in those cars that crashed today.