That is what's left of my 1999 Ford Escort. I had an unfortunate argument with a Jeep Cherokee at one of the most dangerous intersections in Toledo. We both lost.
Fortunately, neither I nor the driver of the other car were seriously injured. Which is surprising, considering 2 things: My car was so badly damaged (as you can see!) that my father stated that he was glad he saw me before he saw the car. And the Cherokee ended up on its side and might have rolled over completely if not for the intervention of a metal light post.
My 14-year-old Escort had the safety chops to protect me from serious injury despite being totaled. And (possibly) an even older Cherokee saved its driver (and passenger(s)?) from even more serious injury.
The respective lives of 2 or more people were saved by the fact that American cars, even those manufactured more than a decade ago, are probably the safest vehicles in existence.
No matter what chaos occurs after living through a major vehicular accident (and believe me, there's a lot), it's a LOT preferable to NOT living through one.
In the meantime, I say farewell to my long-driven (14 years!) Escort. It was the first new car I ever bought and eventually owned outright. Its informal nickname was The Green Machine. Hardly original, I know, but fitting. I am sure that after what few parts can be salvaged from it are taken, it will be on its way to that Great Junkyard in the Sky. After the crash, its radiator bled its remaining fluid into the street. It's now just another part of the asphalt on the Anthony Wayne Trail (Look it up!) Hardly a fitting memorial, but by no means an original one.
Whatever car I end up with to replace it, you can be sure it will have 2 things: a 5-star safety rating, and full-curtain air bags.
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