The collision felt accidental, but it was inevitable.
Our poor vehicle with bald tires, creaky brakes, filled with acrid
and consuming exhaust fumes was totaled.
I thought I’d
died in the front seat. I saw him close his eyes as he was thrown from the car. After the sound of screeching and the bash of implosion, I heard only hissing. It was coming from my chest as I
tried to breathe.
In
hindsight, the campaign had damaged the road under repeated heavy truckloads of
disrespect, anxiety and disgust. The
location: the intersection of Liberal and Conservative. The time: late in the evening after we’d
met our last obligation. We'd lost control of the vehicle as we swerved to avoid the election. The
destination, never arrived at, was acceptance.
Perhaps if
we’d left home earlier it all could have been avoided.
