Leftover thoughts related to the previous post:

• At the time of the collision, I was wearing my sunglasses on my head, as usual. When I got a few items out of my car before I left, I found my sunglasses. Half of one lens was gone, and the frame was bent where the lens was broken. But it wasn’t until I was in the shower at the end of the day that I realized they had not fallen off my head until after they’d broken: in the violence of the collision, my head had hit the doorframe, and the sunglasses had taken the brunt of that impact. I had sustained only a small bruise that I didn’t find until the end of the day.
• Remarkably, I did not receive a ticket. I was certain I would be ticketed for my role in the mess (I was, after all, the one who started the mess), but to my great surprise, I left without a ticket. It still went on my record as an incident caused by my negligence (which got me some unwanted attention from the Secretary of State), but I received no ticket, and thus had no more points added to my driving record.
• When I started walking with the police officer, I realized my limp might make her wonder if I was injured from the collision. My knee and chest were sore, but I thought emergency crews might have more serious issues on their hands, so I told the officer (and, as the morning progressed, others who saw me walk) my limp existed long before that morning. Despite my continuing (and escalating, a bit, probably as my adrenaline subsided) soreness, I never did seek medical attention.
• After I returned home, I began to wonder if I should have sought attention; I was confident my knee was only badly bruised, but I began to suspect that I had suffered a cracked sternum. I had to restrict my use of my arms (for example, I could not push myself up off the couch) because the wrong actions resulted in sharp pains in my sternum. But eventually, everything healed.
• I am now loath to drive in potentially hazardous situations, but in all but the worst cases I still do — just slowly and carefully.
• My willingness to drive in unpleasant weather was tested yesterday, of all days. I drove to South Bend to attend a Notre Dame hockey game; when I was ready to leave, a wet snow was falling and temperatures were hovering just above freezing. I was not excited about driving home in such conditions exactly one year after I wrecked my car on an icy road, but I did. To my relief, the roads were only wet — not icy. Still, I voluntarily drove ten miles per hour below the speed limit on a nearly empty highway. (I thought it would be at least another fifty years before that happened.)
• Every once in a while, my mind replays the sights and sounds (but mostly the sounds) of the truck hitting my car. It’s very vivid. Fortunately, it doesn’t happen too often anymore.
• Perhaps for that reason, the latest round of Volkswagen commercials are hard for me to watch. If you haven’t seen them, the commercials feature a relatively mundane scene of someone driving a car (one features two friends bantering; another features a mom with a young child in the back seat). After the commercials relax you with what seems to be a normal everyday scene, another vehicle collides with the car. The collisions are not just minor fender-benders; they are unexpected, fast and hard — and a bit too realistic for me. The first time I saw one of those commercials, I reacted physically to the collision. They’re easier to watch now that I know what’s coming, but I still don’t like them.
• A few days before Christmas, I was driving through the parking lot of a Kroger in Ann Arbor, and I saw an Ann Arbor firefighter ringing a bell and standing next to a red kettle. I wasn’t shopping at Kroger that day, but I stopped anyway; after I put some money in the kettle, I spoke to the firefighter for a few minutes. I told him what had compelled me to stop, and I thanked him for his work as a firefighter. It was a brief conversation, but when I returned to my car, I was surprised at the emotion I felt, even nearly a year after the fact.
• Schnearle-Pennywitt’s former workplace, Fire Station #3, has been named in her honor.