The Events of April 11th

I was at home, changing the strings on my guitar, when I got a call from my dad. He wondered where I was, and he seemed so relieved to know that I was home. He explained that he had heard a call dispatched over his work radio about a motor vehicle collision on the intersection of 175th and 128th. This is about a mile and a half from where i live, and I use this intersection quite frequently. One of the people had been airlifted to Harborview Medical Center in Seattle. I hung up the phone, and forgot about the call.

A little later, I was on my way to the mall to meet some friends for dessert. I turned onto 175th mindlessly, and sure enough it was closed. I went back a little ways, and took a different route out to 128th. I got onto 128th, and saw a sign that said the road was closed ahead. Rather than immediately turn around, like some of the other drivers, I kept driving to see if I could get a closer look.

The scene I encountered was eerie. The sky was dark gray, and threatened rain. The road was blocked by neon orange cones, nearly the only color besides gray, brown, and black in the entire scene. There was a thin ribbon of yellow tape strung across the road up by the powerlines. The four lanes that are normally busy were empty, except for a police car down by the orange cones and one up by the other set of cones. Between them, the road was empty except for the motorcyle lying on its side in the middle. I don't know what made it so eerie. Maybe it was the lack of color, and the harshness of the sky. Maybe it was the fact that it could've happened to me. Maybe it was the fact that the person could've died on the spot. I don't know what it was, but seeing it put me in a contemplative, intense mood.

The next morning, the only things remaining were neon orange and pink markings, left by accident investigation, skid marks, and gasoline stains, on the double yellow line.