Sketchism

So I’m on my way to school this morning, extra early to avoid traffic. I am dressed in a long sleeve white shirt, covered by my red sweater so I dont wrinkle up my nice black jacket in my car seat. The air is cold and it keeps me awake and alert on this early morning. Today I am presenting my scratchboad illustration for class. The scratchboard is pretty much done, but I am missing the colors. I hope that by driving to school early, I can print out some colors I worked out on Photoshop.

Seeing how I left earlier than usual, I notice a severe decrease in traffic. No accidents, no bumper to bumper, no rainy conditions. All is well. I arrive to Downtown Miami in 20 minutes, record time. I approach the last two blocks before I reach the student parking lot. It is an intersection I pass on a weekly basis. The light is green and my car approaches it when I see from the corner of my eye a car head right towards the right side of my car. He is speeding and yet the moment seems to delay for minutes. I am psychologically ready to get hit by this car. My mind has processed all this in milliseconds. I grip the warm steering wheel and cringe as I prepare for the impact. The sound of plastic crushing and steel bending overpowers the music coming from my speakers. My body jerks to the left and my car begins to spin. I see the blur of street lights passing me as I cry out “Lord protect me!” My car continues to move in the direction I was driving in, but now I am moving backwards. It is a dark morning and the accident is over before it has settled in. The yellow streetlights hover over my car, and I feel as if I’m in a movie. I look to my left and a hispanic man with short hair driving a dark pickup truck stops next to my car, which is now facing against traffic. He mouths “Are you ok?” and I stop to think about it. I look down, pat my shoulders and my legs, and I look back at him and nod. He nods back and raises his hand as if to say farewell and he drives off.

I look straight ahead toward the car that hit me and I wonder if the driver is okay. I don’t see any movement from the vehicle. The cold air invades my car again and I find that my hands are shaking. I begin to see that his car is moving forward. I worry that he will flee the scene. Quickly, I shuffle through my bookbag and search for my camera. I want to document everything. It is the first thing I think about. My imagination fast-forwards into the future and I see lawyers and a judge looking at a tv screen which plays the footage from my camera. I hear the word evidence echo in the courtroom. And then I am back in the present moment watching as the car turns a bit and stops. I finally find the camera and begin recording.

We approach each other and I ask him if he’s alright. He starts talking in Spanish. He tells me something about a light. I don’t understand him through his thick accent. I tell him he ran a red light and then he says the same statement as before. I’m thinking he’s saying that my lights were off. But after looking at the video I realize that he is accusing me of running a red light. I’m convinced he’s wrong.

Eventually a police officer arrives and assesses the situation. She asks me if I have any witnesses. I don’t. I think about the man in the pickup truck. I think about the woman who was walking her dog. I think about the homeless man who walked by me earlier and told me it was an ugly crash. But none of them are around. It’s his word against mine. The officer says she can’t place the blame on anyone. She reports that we both accuse the other of being at fault. And he gets a ticket for not having an insurance card, and that’s because he doesn’t have insurance. “Oh boy,” I say.

An hour later I get a hold of my classmate Charles and he is able to take my project to the class. Whatever preparation I planned on doing for the illustration goes out the window, so to speak. I’m left at the mercy of a colorless scratch board. I’m hoping sympathy and technical detail will be enough to impress my professor, but I highly doubt it.

I keep thinking about the moment right before he hit me, how I saw him coming at full speed toward me, how I braced for impact. Now I brace for whatever legal issues come ahead and I’m cringing yet again. The soreness on the left side of my body doesn’t help. Yet despite the inconvenience of all this, I am alive and I am well. I will go home today and see my family again and enjoy the comfort of air conditioning, hot running water, the loyalty of my pets, the softness of my bed, and the warm glow of my television. I’d say the Lord heard my plea and answered.