Land stories

I was following around various nutty sea stories on the Intarweb a few days ago when I was distracted into thinking about days gone by. Interesting Places to Live points out something I found depressing.

The worst intersection in Virginia for the year 2000 was at General Booth Boulevard and Dam Neck Road. It was considered a dangerous intersection twenty years ago (with a relatively long record of spectacular accidents) and it doesn't look like anyone has learned with the passing of time.

I've got two stories about this tiny patch of land.

1. One late evening in late 1995 (before Adam was born but after we'd already dumped my beloved pickup for the family wagon), I turned left onto General Booth from Dam Neck and in the next quarter mile ran over something with both front and back wheels. It was very dark and this was before the place was lit up like a circus (that happened shortly afterward). I pulled over thinking I had just destroyed some part on the bottom of the car. After checking the bottom for damage and finding nothing, I walked back along the brand new pavement for a few hundred feet, sweeping my flashlight to and fro and again, finding nothing. I've seen movies where people get run over and this was more jarring and louder than any movie ever created.

   It was one of those small events in life that make an indelible impression. I drove the back roads home, but I was spooked and it took a couple days to shake the feeling that something else would happen soon.

2. Another time, somewhere around late 1996, I was in line (we now had lines!) to turn left (again) onto General Booth from Dam Neck in the mid afternoon.

   Back then, the south end of General Booth was well paved (for the expansion) and more or less in the middle of nowhere. A lot of people seriously bent speed limits coming north (I'm guessing the limit was somewhere around 45 to 50) and 65+ wasn't uncommon at certain times of the day (mostly in the morning, and mostly folks coming from out in the cornfields; it's amazing the effect a well paved and graded road can have on you after averaging nearly sixty across a zig zag route of country roads for thirty miles). They were still in the early stages of ripping down the woods and digging out the neighborhoods that now exist between FTC Dam Neck and General Booth. Much of General Booth was still thickly wooded or newly scraped dirt.

   There were also a lot of trucks running around and the truckers could get as carried away as the daily drivers.

   When the light changed, the pickup truck in front (a typical mid-eighties light pickup; extended cab, big wheels and a lot of suspension modifications) took off only to meet an untimely demise.

   Before reaching the middle of the road, the pickup was struck on the driver side by a fully loaded dump truck coming north. If you've never seen a vehicle fly sideways, it's a terrible sight to behold (I don't remember the sound of the collision, I keep trying to find it and it's not there). I'd smashed the breaks and dumped the clutch as soon as I'd reacted and then time got perceptibly slower (nothin' much else for me to do but watch). For a few seconds, I saw and heard things happen in such a detailed way that numerous fragments are still quite vivid. The pickup flew somewhere close to 200 feet on the first bound, hitting on the right side wheels before beginning a wild sideways tumble down the road that shredded everything. At the same time, the dump truck began a strange hopping, screeching, load spewing dance that followed the rapidly accumulating debris field of the still tumbling pickup. Eventually, all motion and noise stopped, a pall hung in the air and those of us who'd witnessed this violent event tried to get a grip (I can't speak for anyone else, but I was shaking).

   Those left in the middle of everything began to organize so I started the car, moved across the road and parked in the emergency lane. The official interrogation was short and to the point. I gave what they already had, I was added to the list and turned loose. The road home was a long and lonely ride that day as I turned things over in my mind and followed the slow, safe and congested route.

   That was just one of several fatalities at the intersection that year, something I attributed to everyone learning new patterns (a sleepy stop light had become a major light on a quickly growing thoroughfare over a short period of time).

If there is such a thing as a positive take away, I learned to make sure an intersection was clear before jumping into it.