Local Woman Narrowly Escapes Death

I should have softened the news. When Keeper walked in the door last night, he barely had his coat off before I blurted out my news: “I got hit by a fire truck today.”

“Wha??” Keeper sputtered, his face full of concern and confusion.

“Well, obviously I’m OK,” I added, “but it kind of shook me up.”

That’s the happy ending. Here’s the beginning and the middle.

I was on my way down El Camino to meet my friend at Café Barrone for a cup of tea and a chat.

About to enter the left turn lane at Ravenswood to swing back north to enter the parking garage, I heard sirens. In my rear-view mirror I saw a fire truck bearing down on me. I did what I was trained to do by Mr. Patacsil in Driver’s Ed class in 1968: I pulled over to the right, angling the car into the next lane.

The next thing I knew, the fire truck was screaming past me and caught the left rear of my car, bouncing me around and gouging the hell out of my bumper.

I was a bit disoriented but not too out of it to notice the engine number of the truck that perpetrated the hit and run.

I jumped out of the car to inspect the damage, only to be met by a honking, snarling driver who angrily swerved around me so as not to miss the green light.

I got back in the car and continued south. I passed the accident scene that was the cause of the commotion and I spied the aforementioned fire truck. I made a U-turn and parked a half-block from the accident, sitting for a few minutes to compose myself.

When I saw that the firefighters were packing up and getting ready to leave (another paramedic unit had responded first and had transported the victim to the hospital) I made my move.

“Uh, excuse me,” I said to the man in the fluorescent yellow vest. “You just hit my car.”

“What?” he said. “Where?”

I mentioned the intersection and he said, “Oh, man. We didn’t even feel that.”

“Well, I sure did,” I countered.

He inspected the car, told me to wait, and went to consult with his colleagues. While they were in conference, I tried to reach my friend to tell her I was delayed. (Zelda, if you’re reading this—keeping your cell phone at home on your desk is missing the whole point of having one.)

The trio of firefighters returned with a binder full of regulations and we began what was to be an hour’s worth of paperwork. Obviously, running into civilians is not uncommon, because there’s an official form for it.

While one guy copied my license, registration and insurance information, the others regaled me with tales of drivers who don’t bother to put down their cell phones, let alone pull over, for emergency vehicles. Seeing as how I was hit while obeying the law, I found this slightly ironic.

Nonetheless, I sympathized with the firefighters, who viewed the drivers’ behavior not as ignorance of the law, but as a sign that they just don’t care.

Despite my slight peevishness at having had my bumper mangled by a city vehicle, I felt a bond with these public servants. I kept thinking about how their brethren responded immediately and professionally the time Keeper collapsed at home, and how the boys at the Holly Street station gave Corky oxygen while they found us an emergency vet open on a Sunday night. These guys are heroes to me.

So, they misjudged how wide their truck was and clipped my bumper. No big deal.

Keeper, on the other hand, was not so forgiving. Normally quite a mellow fellow, my husband got himself a bit worked up imagining how I could have been flattened by an 8-ton truck. He wanted to report the police officer that made me tear up with his tough questioning, sue the city for reckless endangerment, and cuss out the driver of the truck for being careless.

I got him calmed down and he’s content to let the insurance companies battle it out.

Here’s the lesson for today: When you hear a siren or see flashing lights, pull over to the right as soon as you can safely do that. And if you still get your bumper clipped by emergency responders, don’t bust their chops. They’re just doing their job.

And when you tell your loved ones the story, start with the happy ending instead of the lurid headline.