the cracked windshield

[Fiction] Friday Challenge for December 12, 2008:

Tell us the story behind this picture.

Broken Windshield.,
originally uploaded by Rich Anderson

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Sheila opened her eyes. Okay, this is not good, she thought. Either it's pitch black outside, or I'm blind. She shut her eyes, and turned her attention inward. Are you okay, toes? She could wiggle them. That was good. She clenched her calf muscles, then her thigh muscles. Trying to bend her legs to check on her knees, she realised she must be in a sitting position - she was now aware of some pressure along the back of her thighs, her bottom, her back... Of course! she smiled to herself. I'm in the seat of the car! She felt a lot more positive now that she knew where she was. She still had no idea what had just happened, so she continued with her internal body check. Abs, check! Fingers, check! Shoulders, check! And on she went, checking up to her eyelids again, flicking them open and closing them immediately in response to the bright light. Phew! I'm not blind! She smiled again. She had felt no pain throughout her little exercise, and was therefore confident that, whatever had happened, she herself was in one piece. Time to figure out what the heck happened, she muttered to herself as she scrunched her eyes up, opening them just a slit to let in just a little bit of light, as she brought her hands up to shield her eyes and face.

The spiderweb cracks leaped into her vision, and she gasped. Memories came tumbling back. She looked out, and saw snow everywhere, a thick blanket on the ground, on the road, and still coming down heavily. With shaking hands, Sheila reached for the ignition - yes, the keys were still there. She looked down to her right, and shifted the gear back into neutral with the cooperation of her left foot on the clutch. She turned the key. The engine started immediately.

She hadn't realised she had been holding her breath, until she let it out in a large sigh that expelled clouds of condensation into the air, threatening to fog up the broken windshield. She shifted into gear one and gingerly eased off the clutch, and the car obligingly moved slowly forward. That'll teach me to NOT slam on the brakes when the roads are icy, she said to herself. Then she paused. Why had she hit the brakes? A growl of anger escaped her lips as she worked through her fuzzy memories. She glanced back, and saw overhead bridge. Something had fallen? been dropped? onto her car just as she was passing under it.

That windshield isn't cracked because of my donuts. It caused my donuts!

She had already pulled away from the scene, however, and had no intention of turning around, especially in this weather. There was a gas station just a little bit further down the road. She would stop there, and in safety, check her car, call the insurance folks, the police, and Carl. In that order.

Paul the attendant smiled as he watched the green Ford Escort limp into the gas station. "Accident out by the bridge? Darned weather, you're the fifth one today, ma'am," he declared as Sheila smiled wanly, clambering out of the car and into the warmth of the 24-hour mini mart and gas station. As she made her calls, Paul radioed his partner: "That's enough for one day, Roy. Don't want to push our luck now, do we?"