Crashing My Car into a Van Full of Toddlers

I was driving my dad's green Volvo 244 south on Kilian Boulevard in St. Cloud, Minnesota. Something about that car always made me want to drive fast.

It was late winter and the big plowed skating rink in the park was on my right. Years have gone by and there's a rose garden with bronze fountains there now.

The brake lights flashed bright on the white van 50 yards ahead of me. I saw something run in front of the van. It looked like maybe a black labrador dragging a kid by the leash. So that's why they were braking suddenly.

I hit my brakes. Nothing happened. I was on black ice, a frictionless surface straight out of physics class. I tried pumping the brakes, but all that did was straighten the car out a bit. The steering wheel didn't do anything. I thought "this is something happening."

I watched the van get big in my windshield. It was full of little kids in rows. Maybe a preschool shuttle of some kind.

I crashed right into the back of the van. It went skidding away like I'd hit it with a giant cueball. I watched the kids bouncing all around inside like the balls in one of those Fischer-Price push toys. "Crap" I thought. My team-sports sense wondered if I'd knocked them into the dog+kid in the street.

Most of my vision was dark green. I wondered if I'd gone blind. Both my legs were straight pushing the clutch and brake to the floor. I got out of the car. It was much shorter. The long front body had been crushed up against the front wheels. The hood was bent up in the middle so it was too high to see over. That's why my vision had gone dark green. Fifty feet ahead of me the van had come to a halt. A crowd of kids got out holding their necks. I grabbed my ski patrol pack and ran up to see what kind of damage I had to deal with.

Other than their necks, they were okay. They were friends of my mom. Damn. It was a small town. I looked at the van. It was perfect. There were some scuff marks on the rear bumper. Damn. Mine was totaled. I realized why Volvos were safe in wrecks. They were made to be crushed like that like a big sponge.

-Tim Anderson