Car Crash
mikaylanichols
Mikayla Nichols
ENGL 151
November 7, 2012
Car Crash
I know a good writer should never start off with a disclaimer. In this case though, I believe my lack of knowledge about bourbon, hashish fumes, drugs, amphetamines, and pills that the hitchhiker is taking, stops me from fully comprehending this story. I had to look up what hashish was. It seems to be a drug processed with alcohol. Apparently it’s cheapest in England, but the darker stuff has “mystery-meat” in it, such as plastic. I wonder if the cocktail of stuff in his system is responsible for his repetitive claim of, “…I knew we’d have an accident in the storm.” However, if the story is written by the hitchhiker after these events occurred, then it could be some serious hind-sight-bias.
I would like to believe the hitchhiker’s intoxicated state was his reason for being so detached from the man, who was kind enough take him in. Then in the hospital, he enjoys the wife’s shriek of pain at her husband’s death. He sounds like a terrible person who is hallucinating at the hospital. He talks about diamonds being incinerated to make the brilliance of light under a door crack and feeling, “…wonderful to be alive to hear…” the wife’s scream.
I thought it was funny that the hitchhiker couldn’t stand the salesman talking on and on about the girl he liked. He seemed annoyed that this married man could talk so much about his wife, kids, and girlfriend. I thought it was interesting that this hitchhiker who is making poor life choices is finding annoyance in another man’s choice of lifestyle.
Reading about the baby was hardest part for me. The baby’s pose after the car crash is so serene. “Its eyes were open and it was feeling its cheeks with its little hand.” Then the hitchhiker takes the baby (which probably has whip lash) from the car accident with its family and tries to hand the poor baby over to the semi truck driver. How insensitive can you be! No, he didn’t call 911, or find a way for the semi to turn around, but he sat in the cab drinking coffee and debating if everyone is dead.
The story tried to be deep with an overlying tone of the hitchhiker’s life and what he felt or went through, but I didn’t see much past the drugs. He rants at the end about detox, hearing voices from cotton, and flopping like a fish, only to end with, “…you ridiculous people, you expect me to help you.” I feel like this was a reflection of him not helping at the car wreck, but maybe it could apply to his whole life being a mess and the expectations that have been put on him.