Everyone Knows That Sound

I'd venture that even if one's never heard it before, one knows that it can't be good. But living in an urban society, everyone knows that sound.

Metal meeting metal. Sometimes prefaced by a screeeechBANG. Those of you who know me, you know that to me, the sound is uncomfortably, sadly familiar. But this time around it wasn't me.

I don't know who it was. I was sitting on my couch when I heard it outside. And everyone knows that sound.

So I found my glasses and opened the sliding door and went out on the patio. Sure enough, at the intersection. A Suburban had hit a pickup. Seemed like the pickup was trying to make it through the intersection at the last second. Trying to save a minute - or, more likely, was going too fast to stop and decided instead to just gun through.

I don't know what happened. But that seems likely.

Everyone was out on their balconies or patios, standing on sidewalks up and down the street, watching. 'Cause they know that sound.

Some of you know that a few months ago, a high-speed police chase terminated in my car. A crazy fugitive woman in a stolen truck hit my car while I was at a stoplight. My car was totaled. She went running and was tackled by a police officer. I later learned that she had taken in a runaway and was beating the child in her closet.

She hit seventeen cars between Burbank, where the chase started, and that intersection in Hollywood.

I called Nikki. Asked if she could come pick me up. She turned on the TV. There I was. Live coverage, news chopper shot. My car and four others, scattered across the intersection like dropped Hot Wheels.

Hey! I was on TV!