We were coming home from a band clinic, and I was riding in the car with the band director’s wife and son. The son was a couple of years older than me, and he was driving. We were all sitting in the front seat of one of those big, 1950s cars. We stopped for church, and afterwards his mother asked to trade places with me. I moved to the middle of the front seat, and she moved to the right. That’s the last thing I remember.
When I “came to,” I was in the hospital treatment room, talking to my parents and doctor. I had already been X-rayed and had a few broken bones and nose dug into by windshield glass. I learned that the mother, sitting in what would have been my seat, had gone through the windshield, ripping off her face. Her son was pinned by the steering wheel in an accident I would never remember.
The ambulance crew found me walking in a field beside where the two cars had collided, the other car having gone through a yield sign. I was talking and seemed alert but my mind was still on a visit from the hell in that car.
The fear still remains. Since then, I’ve never been able to pass a car on a two-lane highway. Even when drivers behind me honk and scream. One time I followed a tractor for several miles, until it pulled over.
I had seen his mother’s raw face. It could have been me.
Pris Campbell
Lake Worth, Florida
7 thoughts on “Forgotten”
Such a horrific experience. It would be hard not to be affected by it. I’m so glad you came out of it, Pris.
Reid, thanks. I think repressing it was my way out
Oh my gosh! This is such a powerful story and so well-written! I knew it would be before I read it because everything Pris Campbell writes is excellent! I can relate to this also because many years ago when I was in my 20’s, I was driving on the Interstate and moving from one city to another about 90 miles away, very sleep-deprived, and had been driving for a good while. The last thing I remember was waking up in the middle of the Interstate after I had fallen asleep driving and had hit some concrete underneath a bridge with my car and totaled it, but fortunately I escaped with minor injuries and didn’t need to be admitted to the hospital, but after that, like Pris Campbell said, the fear remained for quite a while and I was afraid to drive at all for a while. I shouldn’t have escaped that with as minor as my injuries were, especially since my entire car was totaled. Someone was looking out for me as I feel someone was looking out for Pris. I always love reading her work!
Nan, thank you for responding. What a terrifying experience you had, Too! I love your writing as well.
I have known Priscilla since we were in fifth grade. We were in band together. She played clarinet, me drums. I was supposed to be in the car with her and the Mills that day, don’t remember why I wasn’t. Later, after my own accident I wondered if karma really existed.
The accident was shocking to all of us though it wasn’t till later when I nearly died in a car accident that I understood what baggage a person carries from such an event.
I don’t remember any conversations we in the community shared about her accident beyond the normal I can’t believe it or did you see that car. The undercurrent being how could this happen to people we knew and loved. No one in the accident spoke to me about their feelings of disbelief or fear or scarring. Priscilla and I only shared our stories to each other in our 80s.
The band director took me to the hospital daily after the accident. His son and I were dating at the time.
Kathleen Dennis
Thank you for sharing your experience with this time. I remember you reading to his son every day in the hospital.
I never realized you were supposed to go and didn’t. I wish you would submit your accident story. It was worse than mine.
You’re welcome, Pris, and thank you too!