Sometimes in life you encounter a situation that reminds you that there are a lot of people in the world with completely different lifestyles than your own. This happened to me a few years ago when I got hit by a
tweaker.
I live in Southwestern Idaho. The climate here is classified as high altitude desert. It's either summer or winter with very little transition time between the two. Summers are dry and stupid hot. Winters are dry (most of the time) and dang-blammety cold. My tweaker encounter occurred on one of those cold winter mornings. The sun was up, but the only way you would know is because you didn't need your headlights to see very far. I kiss of light fog was still sticking to the ground. I was driving to work like I always do along the same farm road with hardly any traffic around. I came upon my usual intersection to turn left and slowed to let a single oncoming car pass before I actually made the turn.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught motion on the street I was turning onto. I watched as a small hatchback approaching the intersection crested the small hill and begin a perilous slide downhill across a thick sheet of black ice and into the intersection. By this time, I had come to a full stop. It was clear that the hatchback was out of control and was going to miss the stop sign. The oncoming car passed in a blur just in front of the hatchback. All I could do was sit and wait for the impact. All I could think was, "This is going to hurt!"
Something uncommon happened then. It wasn't a conscious effort made or thought generated, nor reasoning or risk analysis. It was more like my body came up with an idea, my head didn't. My foot moved from the brake and slammed down on the gas. In the split second before impact my little Toyota pickup moved maybe five feet forward or so, just enough to change the impending T-bone into rear clipping.
The hatchback had some momentum. It spun me 90 degrees in the direction I wanted to turn and continued across the intersection and onto the shoulder. I completed the turn and pulled off the road. I got out and assessed the situation. I wasn't hurt. That was good news. I ran across the street to check on the hatchback. The guy inside was struggling with the door. The impact had shoved the front fender to cover the door hinge making the door stick shut. I helped pry open the door and asked if he was okay. It was clear that he was shaken, very nervous, but otherwise unharmed.
We went back across the road to look at my truck. Not much damage. He was still very upset and trying to figure out what happened exactly. In an attempt to calm him down I offered a seat on the tailgate. I explained that this was pure accident there's nothing he or I could have done differently. Then, as an emphasis to the point, an empty school bus crested the same hill and slid down the same patch of black ice, through the stop sign and into the intersection. No oncoming traffic in sight. The driver peeled a hand off the wheel, shifted into first and proceeded across the intersection. I looked at the nervous hatchback driver and said, "Why don't we do something about that black ice before something really bad happens?" I motioned toward the contents of my truck bed. I was carrying a half dozen sandbags to add weight to the back end of my lightweight truck. (A little trick you learn if you drive in the snow and ice a lot). We unloaded the sandbags onto the ice and knifed them open spreading the sand out as best we could. There wasn't enough to cover the whole patch, but enough to give traction.
"I suppose we should do the whole insurance thing I guess." I mentioned as we stood admiring our work. "I kinda don't have any paperwork with me. It's my girlfriend's car." he replied. "Do you think we could keep the cops out of this?"
Red flag! Technical Foul! My suspicious dude meter pegged and I reached for my cell phone. "Let me call my insurance company and get their advice on the matter." I dialed 911. I explained calmly to the dispatcher what had happened, where we were and advice on how to handle his lack of paperwork. The dispatcher told me to take down his plate number and try to keep him there until the sheriff arrived.
"They're going to send out a claims expert. I explained. The office is just down the street a couple of miles so it will only take a few minutes." With a bit of relief, totally gullible hatchback dude sat back down on the tailgate, relaxed a little and asked to borrow the cell phone to call his boss. He worked construction and it was clear from the tone in which he apologetically explained his tardiness, his job was tenuous at best. This guy wasn't a bad guy, he was just young, inexperienced and trying to make a life for himself. It hadn't been too long ago that I was in the same situation working three dirty jobs, 60 hours a week just to pay the rent and keep food on the table.
To be on the safe side, I managed to snap a picture of his plate as he handed the cell phone back to me. I took a seat in the drivers seat with the door open. As we waited for the "claims expert" to arrive, I noticed his nervous fidgeting with the contents of his coat pocket. We were engaged in small talk when my "claims expert" arrived in the form of County sheriff K9 unit.
This guy's day just went to absolute hell from that point on. It was almost like being on COPS. The officer stepped out expecting a routine traffic incident. He approached the both of us pleasantly enough, but when he got within a couple of paces of hatchback dude he stopped abruptly, his face went from routine boredom to concern as if alerted to some unseen danger. He looked directly at hatchback dude, smiled and told him this will only take a few minutes. He came close to me and blocked our line of sight. "You're going to want to stay in your car with the door closed." I pulled my legs inside and the officer closed the door.
I watched curiously as the officer instructed the guy to stand. I cracked the window so I could hear the exchange. The officer explained that he had detected the strong smell of methamphetamine when he approached and asked permission to search his person. I could see the fight or flight response appear on the guy's face. He chose unwisely. The guy bolted across the farmers field we were parked at heading for a nearby tree line. The officer just watched him go, shook his head and went back to his squad car. He opened the back door. What emerged was the biggest, knarliest, meanest looking dog you ever saw.
"Raider! Fetch!" The Giant Schnauzer maybe touched the ground two or three times before catching up and clamping down on the poor tweaker's thigh. He screamed in pain and began to wrestle with the dog. Raider had the weight advantage though and pinned the guy to the ground. The officer half heartedly jogged over to the fracas, cuffed the guy, and hauled him back to his squad car.
The subsequent search of the guy and his car found numerous infractions of the controlled substance and paraphernalia laws. Multiple squad cars had arrived by that time to process the scene. The original officer came back to my window with a smile on his face. "Well I guess you weren't expecting that one today were you?" He joked. He then took down my perspective of things including the accident. He even thanked me for putting down the sand. "I'm afraid this guy doesn't have insurance, so you'll be stuck with your deductible."
"You know what? I'm not so concerned about that anymore." I replied, as I got back in my truck and continued on with my commute. As I arrived at work, I felt my cell phone in my pocket. I paused to take it out and look at it. I fingered the redial button and was connected to a construction company. I asked for the same guy the tweaker did and was transferred.
"You know your employee that called in a little while ago with the traffic accident? Well, he's going to be a lot more than late today...."
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