I eventually found a spot on a side street, but one that was still close to E. Broadway, one of the main arteries that cuts through this part of Boston. I wedged the car into the spot, scooped up our belongings from the car seats and got out of the car. I ventured up the block to read the parking restriction signs, making sure that I had actually found a legal spot. As I ambled back to the car, I heard the telltale sound of squealing tires somewhere in the distance. I scanned the street up and down, but saw nothing. A moment later, I again heard tires squeal and finally spied headlights coming perpendicularly toward the main street, toward me.
The car was swerving slightly right and left and its headlights wavered back and forth across my path. As the car sped toward Broadway, it swung quickly and wildly to attempt to turn, but the driver was going too fast. He couldn't bring the car in line with the road and the car veered closer to my side of the road. At the last moment, the tires grabbed the road enough to begin to turn, but not sufficiently enough to avoid the sidewalk island between the road I was on and Broadway. Still going fast, the car lept the curbed, struck two cars on it's right side and slammed stiffly into a concrete lamppost, coming to an abrupt stop. Plastic flew into the air, metal folded like paper. My jaw fell agape. I looked up the street and saw no one. I looked the down the street and only saw a person walking their dog, several block away. Realizing that it was up to me to see if the driver was okay, I took a few steps closer to the car. I could see a man in the driver's seat; he was dazed and his head bobbled. As I began to edge closer to the car, it suddenly popped into reverse and quickly lurched backward, hitting the same two cars again and jumping off the curb before it again came to a stop. The car idled and I wasn't sure if he was going to take off again, but then I saw the driver turn to look at me. Me: a witness to what was clearly some kind of vehicular crime. This was Southie. There were legitimate tough guys in this town and I wasn't one of them.
View Scene of the Accident in a larger map - click on icons for descriptions.
The car was swerving slightly right and left and its headlights wavered back and forth across my path. As the car sped toward Broadway, it swung quickly and wildly to attempt to turn, but the driver was going too fast. He couldn't bring the car in line with the road and the car veered closer to my side of the road. At the last moment, the tires grabbed the road enough to begin to turn, but not sufficiently enough to avoid the sidewalk island between the road I was on and Broadway. Still going fast, the car lept the curbed, struck two cars on it's right side and slammed stiffly into a concrete lamppost, coming to an abrupt stop. Plastic flew into the air, metal folded like paper. My jaw fell agape. I looked up the street and saw no one. I looked the down the street and only saw a person walking their dog, several block away. Realizing that it was up to me to see if the driver was okay, I took a few steps closer to the car. I could see a man in the driver's seat; he was dazed and his head bobbled. As I began to edge closer to the car, it suddenly popped into reverse and quickly lurched backward, hitting the same two cars again and jumping off the curb before it again came to a stop. The car idled and I wasn't sure if he was going to take off again, but then I saw the driver turn to look at me. Me: a witness to what was clearly some kind of vehicular crime. This was Southie. There were legitimate tough guys in this town and I wasn't one of them.
View Scene of the Accident in a larger map - click on icons for descriptions.
The car went into park. The brake lights dimmed. The car door opened slowly. I again looked up and down the street, hoping against hope that someone else would come to our aid. The dog walker was making his way closer, but was still blocks away and didn't look like he was in any hurry. The driver staggered out of his seat and turned to face me. His face was bloody and I could see that his windshield was cracked where his head must have slammed into it. The driver maneuvered himself around the car, surveying it and the other cars he'd hit as took a couple of unsteady steps toward me.
"Are you okay," I asked. He stopped and stared at me intently for what seemed like several minutes. He appeared confused and why wouldn't he be? I stared back unsure if he wanted my help or wanted me to disappear. He and I held each other's gaze, though he wobbled as he struggled to remain upright. As I took in his features, looking beyond the bloody brow, I slowly began to realize that he looked familiar. As I struggled to place him, I saw the corner of his mouth rise into a bemused grin. "Ringer?" he quizzically slurred. And when he spoke, in his thick Boston accent, it came to me. "Billy!" I replied. His face broke into a broad smile, ear to bloody ear. We had gone to college together. We were in the same fraternity. And while we weren't exactly friends then, had little in common at the time and less so now many years later, there was a mutual amusement that here, in the middle of the night, on a deserted Southie thoroughfare in which he'd just slammed into two parked cars and a stone lamppost, we might happen to find ourselves meeting again.
"Are you okay," I asked. He stopped and stared at me intently for what seemed like several minutes. He appeared confused and why wouldn't he be? I stared back unsure if he wanted my help or wanted me to disappear. He and I held each other's gaze, though he wobbled as he struggled to remain upright. As I took in his features, looking beyond the bloody brow, I slowly began to realize that he looked familiar. As I struggled to place him, I saw the corner of his mouth rise into a bemused grin. "Ringer?" he quizzically slurred. And when he spoke, in his thick Boston accent, it came to me. "Billy!" I replied. His face broke into a broad smile, ear to bloody ear. We had gone to college together. We were in the same fraternity. And while we weren't exactly friends then, had little in common at the time and less so now many years later, there was a mutual amusement that here, in the middle of the night, on a deserted Southie thoroughfare in which he'd just slammed into two parked cars and a stone lamppost, we might happen to find ourselves meeting again.
I asked him again if he was all right and he said that he was. He asked what I was doing here and I told him that I was just parking the car and going to my girlfriend's apartment. His face suddenly turned serious. "Was that your car I just hit?!" I assured him wasn't, that my car was luckily parked on the safe side of the street. His tensed shoulders relaxed. Just then the dog walker came up. Billy recognized him, too! He greeted the man by name, assured him he was okay and the dog walker barely broke stride as he continued up the street - as if this were nothing but a normal occurrence.
Billy and I stared awkwardly at each other for a few short while. As I said, we weren't exactly friends and didn't really have much to catch up on, especially not in the strange aftermath of a car wreck. Billy looked up and down the street, making sure it was still quiet. Finally he said, "Well...I better get out of here." "Yeah," I said. The accident had generated quite a lot of noise and we both seemed to sense that it wouldn't be long before someone called the police. "Good to see you, Billy." "You, too, Ringer." He fell back into the driver's seat and closed the door. He dropped the car into drive and quickly accelerated up the hill and around the bend, the wheels squealing once more as his tail lights went out of view.
I walked the several blocks to my girlfriend's, marveling at the bizarreness of what had just transpired. When I walked in the apartment she asked me what the hell had taken me so long. I told her only that I bumped into an old friend, didn't add that he'd very nearly and literally run into me.
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