“What the fuck is your problem?”

I stare blankly into the mans jowly and worn face.

“What is the fucking holdup?”  He demands whilst barreling over me.

I mutely swing around and point to the two cars spilling their precious fluids onto the pavement, and more importantly, the pregnant Hispanic woman wailing a river of tears over her son. 

He jerks back and says, “Shit, I’m going to be late.

The other driver, a middle-aged woman adorning a stylish business suit, curses 911 on the mobile while kicking what used to be the front end of her blue BMW M5.

“Are you alright?”  I plead whilst surveying the little boy.

“I’m alright”, says the lady in the business suit.

I lean down and ask the lad if he is alright.  He nods that he is alright,  while rivulets of blood trickle from his brow onto the cold asphalt. 

“Are you alright, Ma’am?”  I ask as the sun reflects off of the stream of tears dripping off of her chin. 

She blurts out Spanish so fast that I can’t understand what she’s saying.

“Está bien, Señora?  -  Are you alright, Ma’am?”

“Hijo mi está herido  -  My son is hurt”, she answers while wiping off his forehead with her sweatshirt.

“Estancia aquí  -  Stay here”, I scream over the haunting sirens coming from the east of our position.

I go back to my truck and grab a blanket.  I look back to discover a sea of cars backed up a quarter mile.  I run into a winded construction worker and ask him if he has any road cones.  He runs back to his truck and starts setting them out so that we don’t get ran over by a speeding eejit.

Just as I return and put the blanket over the boy so he doesn’t get cold, the fire crew arrives.  The white collared woman continues to pace back and forth and rant on the mobile.  As they start examining the boy, the fire chief pulls me to the side and ask me what happened.  As I begin to tell him what I saw, the expecting woman cries, “Señor…Señor…Señor.”

I run over to her and her son, and the medic says that they are going to take him to the hospital for x-rays to make sure that minor cuts is all he has.

The woman, we’ll call her, Maria, pleads with me to talk to her in Spanish.

I translated the best I could for the medic.  She asks me to call her husband so I do and hand her the mobile as the ambulance arrives.

She hands over the phone and hugs me whilst screaming, “Gracias, señor”.

The medics check her over after loading the boy onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.  I give her my card and stay behind to be interviewed by the fire chief, highway patrol, and an already on the scene claims adjustor. 

That was the ending to a very hectic week.  The father called me a few hours ago and said the young boy was fine.  To top it all off, I’m finished with the project I’ve been working on for three weeks.  Have a great weekend everyone.  Many apologies for not posting for a few days.

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