Two high school students were killed last week when, as they were pulling onto the highway from a crossroad, their car was broadsided by a fully-loaded semi.
I hate it. It gives me the creeps. And those poor girls, and their families and their friends and classmates. At work, we've seen a lot of the fallout up close and personal. It kind of makes me sick and thankful for many, many things.
That said, I also have a very morbid curiosity. Any time I see shrines and crosses and roses along the side of a road, I wonder what tragic story led to their presence. Who were the victims? Why did it happen? When did it happen? And it mostly gives me the full-on creeps. And it makes me sad. And I feel like I want to know everything about what happened to those poor people who are remembered by a wooden cross staked into the frozen ground.
There's been word here that the intersection of last week's fatal crash is a tricky one. I've driven the highway several times, but it's not an intersection I distinctly remember. So this morning I drove out there to find out.
As expected, crosses, roses, teddy bears, thoughts, prayers, memories, are all piled high on the ground. Skid marks stain the highway, where their car was pushed 300 feet by the unsuspecting semi. The whole scene mostly made me want to throw up. I turned onto the road they pulled out from, and turned around. I had to make the same left back on to the highway that killed them one week ago.
Insert immediately regretting that decision, here.
I sat waiting for oncoming traffic to clear, and again, totally wanted to throw up. How did they not see the semi? And if they didn't, my God, I can't even imagine... What went through their minds, if anything?. Why is it I thought I should go to that intersection and try to understand?
I made the left. And made it back to work. And wonder how the girls would be today if they had made it as well.
It kind of all just makes me sick. Rest in peace.