I got hit by a car once. It’s amazing, the feeling of it. You never really know what that kind of force is like until you experience it.
Yes, you can run into a wall and fall down. You can try to push a tractor and admire its ability to not move. But to have something fling you through the air so effortlessly while its barreling out of control is impressive. If it wasn’t so dangerous I’d recommend it to everyone simply so they can know how little they can defend themselves in every day life.
The pain is excruciating as well. It’s fantastic the amount of hurt it can cause with little or no damage to itself. The most impressive part is how it can seemingly carry on as normal while you’re left clinging to life support in its wake. The after effects are catastrophic to you and a minor annoyance to it.
I recovered, obviously. As fragile as us bone bags are we can recover from a lot, even a being hit by a car and thrown on the concrete. Our bones heal and our organs settle right back into place. Cuts and bruises fade. One of the few similarities between the car and us feeble-bodied beings is the long standing possibility of never being the same if we’re hit hard enough.
We may carry on with a limp and never walk the same way again. There might be some kind of internal damage that causes a lot of things that we did before to be altered. Our brains might even be shook up enough that they don’t snap and sparkle in the way they once did.
And the car? The car might need repairs. A windshield that needs to be refitted and never sits right against the wipers. The front end welded back into place that now has a clicking sound when it’s driven. Overall performance, like us sacks of skin, will have to be re-evaluated. It’s funny how we can be so similar yet so different, machines and humans.
Of course it wasn’t a car that hit me, it was you. You stared at me and I froze to like a deer in the headlights. I don’t know if you steered into me or if you were as out of control as I was stuck but you hit me head on and I went flying through the air. It was a light feeling of wondrous glee. I couldn’t remember a time when I was happier than when I was falling for you, and then I hit the pavement.
Falls can never last forever, the ground is always waiting. You crashed into me and broke everything. Even after that I tried to get better. I recovered with a limp. My brain didn’t quite work as well as it did though and there seemed to be little scaring on you. You drove along as if nothing was the matter. It was incredible.
You hit me and I got better and you carried on. Then I felt the lingering effects. The limp started to hurt. My head started to ache. You drove off and nothing was the same. You crashed into me and wrecked my sense of normal. Maybe I did some damage to you too but you never showed it. You still don’t.
The funny thing I found after all of this is maybe you’re just a bad driver.