No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.

I was driving home from Vermont to Boston last Saturday night. The moon was full and bright, and the sky was clear. The RedSox were on the radio and all was well with the world.

Until I went around a bend on I-89, into a deeply shadowed uphill incline, in New Hampshire and immediately saw a car pulled over on the left with its flashers on. I quickly shifted to the right lane to make sure I wouldn't hit anyone who might be changing a tire.

At that moment the car about 4 car lengths in front of me drove over a dead moose. "Ah," I thought, "the first car hit the moose!" I managed to swerve around the moose bits in the road, with a minimum of tire squealing. Pulling over to the right side and hitting my flashers I was a bit shaky, but totally unhurt. I could see the car in front of me coasting to the top of the hill, pulling over and turning on flashers. "Guess they're OK, too. I'd better check on the folks that took a direct hit."

Just after that thought a couple of cars whizzed around the bend and narrowly missed the moose, the first car and my car. Tires squealing, they drove on into the night. Apparently three cars pulled over in a 1/2 mile stretch of road, next to a dead moose, don't qualify as a reason for stopping. I got out of the car, waited for a couple of more cars to pass through and drive on before I felt safe enough to cross the road to check on the first car. The I trotted down the left shoulder toward the moose-strike car.

I could see the driver's (I assumed) legs against the headlights. I thought, "Great. He's OK. So I can get outahere..." I asked if he was OK and did he call 911. He replied that everyone in his car was OK, but very shook-up and slightly bloody from flying glass. And one of his passengers had called 911. As I was about to say, "Good, I'll be on my way then..." I heard a soft "pop" noise from across the road and in the corner of my eye saw my car rolling down the hill backwards.

Diagonally. Into the road. Where drivers were still squealing by. And there was a dead moose. And a dead car..... Oh. %$#@.

Taking a couple deep breaths and checking to see that I wasn't going to get killed by an on-coming car, I ran toward the car and tried to open the driver's door so that I could reach in and grab the emergency brake. I got the door to open about an inch, while running alongside the car, just as the driver's side rear fender of my car scraped into the passenger side rear fender of the moose struck car. I couldn't pull my car to a stop just by holding it, and if I tried to get between the cars I'd get crushed.... so I let go of my door and watched as my car gently rolled back and in the process severely damaged my driver's side door.

It came to a stop a few feet later, in a ditch. I got in, started the engine, and drove my car to a safer spot on the shoulder. Put the flashers on and called 911.

This moose accident was now a 3 car accident.

When the local volunteer fire department arrived the, at first, didn't believe me when I said I was fine. Because my door was demolished and there was moose blood all over the front (and underside) of my car. But eventually they went off to check on everyone else. I waited for the nice young State Trooper to stop laughing long enough to get my registration and insurance info. Off he went to write up the accident report.

Because I was fine and in no rush to be anywhere, it took them a while to get back to me. But I was given a copy of the report info, and told that if I could get my door to close and lock I could drive my car home to Massachusetts.

Back came the volunteer firemen with their axes, picks and other large metal implements. They banged. They twisted. They tried hard not to laugh. And finally they gave up. But a trooper had some rope in his trunk and we used that to lash the door shut. Funny thing is, the window still rolls down fine, so when I passed through a tollgate later that night I didn't have to stop and climb out of the car to pay the toll.