My family and I were stopped at a traffic light (facing south) last Saturday evening when the accident took place. First, a tan SUV collided with a blue pickup. A white SUV then slid into the blue truck, while the tan SUV bounced off the blue truck and hit my black truck before coming to a stop. All of the other vehicles were, I think, traveling east and west on Main Street.

I say “I think” because the whole incident unfolded in less than five seconds. As I told one of the officers on the scene, we weren’t 100% sure which direction the tan SUV was traveling, or who was at fault in the accident. It makes you feel really stupid to have to explain to a police officer that an accident happened 10 feet in front of you, and you have no idea what just happened.

The driver of the tan SUV (we’ll call him “Billy”) was badly shaken, so I did my best to comfort him while waiting for the police to arrive. Billy works at a local fast food restaurant and had just got his SUV out of the shop. Based on recent events, I’d say it’s going back.

While we were waiting for the police to arrive (which took less than 5 minutes), a well-meaning man pulled up and began barking orders at me. “Make that kid sit down!” he yelled at me. Then he handed me the glass of ice water he was drinking and told me to give it to Billy. “He’s in shock!” said the man. “I was in the Marines, I’ve been shot three times!” I may have been in shock myself as I hard time following the man’s logic (“I was shot years ago; therefore, you will drink from a stranger’s water cup.”) but it must have made sense to Billy because he took the glass and drank it down.

The blue truck and the tan SUV took the most damage. The blue truck’s front end was so crumpled that the driver’s side door wouldn’t open, and the tan SUV’s airbags had deployed. Nobody appeared to be seriously hurt, and there was no blood. The white SUV had slid into the aftermath of the original accident and didn’t appear to have much damage. My front bumper got dinged and bent, but nothing too major.

After exchanging information and making a statement to the police, we were back on our way, able to weasel out between the remaining police cars and tow trucks that had begun to arrive. The Avalanche is still perfectly driveable, so I’ll continue to do so until it’s time to take her in for repairs. We spent the rest of the evening chatting with friends about how lucky we were. That’s the O’Hara luck for ya — being lucky in unlucky situations.