PURE BAD LUCK: My First Vehicular Accident

Last Friday morning was pure bad luck. I, rather we met an accident.

After four days, it seems the memory of this car accident story returns in slow motion with an astonishing list of details that gets freeze-framed from beginning to end over end over end.

Hey, I am just over-acting. It’s just a little accident but being our first, we were frozen to death, dumbfounded, shocked, shaken, and traumatized.

The car that Sprite was driving had an accident. I was the only passenger and thanks to our seat belts we were very, very safe.
Actually this is what happened.

Sprite and I had a grand time with our own respective friends that afternoon. She has her Deira friends while I had my former Mantakath Hamdan buddies. She dropped me off in my former pad in Hor Al Anz went back to Rigga and videoke-ed herself throughout the night while Jett and I downed one bottle of Napoleon.

I was already tipsy when Sprite picked me up at 2:15 in the morning as I decided we should go home to The Gardens as we still have to attend mass at eight. Everything started just okay as we took the Mitsubishi Lancer straight to Sheikh Zayed while discovering new routes.

On the way down from the bridge, a kilometer away from our place, we were driving behind a shuttle bus that seemed to plod towards the upcoming green light. Sprite was a few seconds late to break as I was panning my view on the skyline of Jebel Ali from DuCal to Ibn Batutta Mall and watching these two people ahead jabber away in same manner the bus was getting out of my Godly mood.

Suddenly the light turned red, and the bus screeched suddenly and Sprite applied the brakes swiftly. OMG, the brakes didn’t hold as I saw the frustration and aggravation in Sprite’s face she visibly gasped at what was about to come into our view

A white Mercedes Benz sports car was at a standstill at the opposing stop light as Sprite tried to stop. But we skidded and our car slid into the Benz’s left rear side. Actually I noticed the car in front of us, but our car was sliding towards it., “Oh God, don’t let us slam into that car.” I knew that we are about to hit it and grabbed the steer from Sprite to swerve the car to the left enough not to hit the bus in the other side of the lane, but with that thought...

Pow!!!... I heard a strange noise and then I was looking through white fog. For a moment...just a moment... I asked if I was dead and honestly, I was waiting for people to step through and greet me. Those expectations didn’t last long as reality fell into my mind that we got to go out and check what happened.

Now I could see cars stopped outside and people from all across the street and in the vehicles were staring. That’s what people do. They stare.

Then I felt frightened. Sprite is too. “Could we been hit from other cars that didn’t see us?” I opened the door. It squeaked as I stepped out not knowing what I was to step into and what to do. I felt the gush of humid Dubai wind hit my face and I felt better. It was familiar. I am alive. I checked Sprite, she is too.

Despite being a bit tipsy I was aware of everything all at once- the trees, the left turn attempt to avoid the Benz that would have caused a different accident, the stuffed toys and Modesh on the rear seat flying, the position of trucks and cars in our front and rear.

I was aware of every other street and car and Pakistani pedestrians and side walk and electric posts that caught my eye. When I looked back in shock, it’s as though I had 360 degree vision. Even in the unlit car, I saw Sprite bewildered, shocked and pale.

The driver and passenger of the car that we hit got down the Mercedes and we heard ourselves saying “We are sorry” and that simply removed the anger developing inside the driver towards us. We were glad we had these two nice Indians. If there were good Samaritans that time, they were. Sprite tried to call the police but always took the wrong number, maybe because she was still trembling. Then the police came. He was too nice to be true, but I never took the chance to be near him or he will smell alcohol breath and complicate the situation.

After that, for me, the procedure was very straight forward. Got the pink police report copy meaning driver is at fault. Call the respective drivers’ insurance agents. Drove slowly the car with a busted rim, dented fender, and a bent axle to the Garden’s basement waiting what to do next without paying a fil.

I know that it is too good to be true and many do not experience the same, but for some reason, that is exactly what has happened to us. As what Sprite later told me in the lift, when she finally had gotten over the shock, “ibang level na talaga tayo.” And we laughed nervously to the room.