The car rolled down the hill. Being in the driver’s seat made it different this time. I braced myself with my arms, deadlocked against door and glove box. I had already deflated the front air bags, and they lay useless and harmless to me now. The first jolt came from the ceiling but rolled quickly over to the passenger side. Rolling a car down a hill is different than simply rolling a car. You are not simply tossed around on the ground. Here, you get air time, free fall. The next time I would feel any force at all, it would come abruptly from under, throwing me back upward, flying with my car, tensed body holding me in the seat. Cars are not meant to crash, but when they do, they are meant to roll and bend so as not to break. The crash on my said came from the window shattering against the wall. I got a taste dust on the way up The arm I was holding against my door was pushed in. Elevation drop must have increased under me, because I was given a good rest from feeling the fistfight with Mother Earth.
This is what people pay for. They pay for this when they buy tickets to get on roller coasters, the simple taking of turns of free fall and the reaction force of the Earth to get you back up in the air. I had never liked roller coasters. Whenever I had paid for them it had been the urging of others. The most enjoyment I would get out of them is unconventional it would seem when I look around at the others. I would hold the bar. Strap myself in, try to work with the forces. That, this, is definitely the thrill I had been paying for all this time. The thrill was always doing what I needed to stay alive.
Being jostled around with my hold for life must have broke the base of the glove box. I let it slip and started pushing against the passenger seat. As far as my perception of time can tell of then, I made a narrow window as the next landing would come from there at an angle. I let my elbow bend enough to keep my shoulder from snapping. Without leaving the ground, I braced myself from the other side when it came down on one of the trees of the edge of the forest.
Good Lord, was this the best choice? Was this the only way out? I allowed for a quick stare along the trench I had dug myself into. I unstrapped myself and let the belt fly back. Gradually speeding up, I grabbed my bag and started awkwardly crawling my way to the passenger side, downward. From there, I got in the seat and pulled the handle to let the door fall open. I rolled out. I was disoriented in all of my movements, and, while I was successful, it showed as I tried to get up. I staggered and started gazing again.
My mother screamed and ran running from her driver’s seat. The dirt still hadn’t stopped falling from the roof of the car in front of my face. I couldn’t see a thing. I felt like I was outside of my body. From there, I could. She screamed like a banshee, short intervals for a breath and then screaming again. She grabbed my brother and I, oblivious to the pain she was causing us, needing to know she hadn’t killed us. She sat down in the dirt, putting both of us in our laps, sobbing uncontrollably. Eleven years ago, on our way to a funeral, we lived. To this day, it is still funny.
The screeches form up on the highway ended. Their engines started roaring again. They were coming back. Shit! They’re not gonna give up. But on this day, nobody had died, so the joke was still funny. Before leaving. I raised up my arms and let out a joyous yell. I listened to its echo ring out in peace. Then I pounced on my bag, turned, and ran like hell into the woods. Nobody had shown me how to take life seriously then.