The drive from Granville to Chicago takes seven hours, and you get an hour back from the time zone. Yesterday it took longer because of traffic caused by the worst accident I've ever seen.

Movement westbound stopped somewhere close to Dayton. After a couple of minutes, I pulled onto the shoulder to see what I could see. The line of cars stretched down into a hollow ahead, back up the hill and out of view. It was a couple of miles, anyway. Eastbound traffic was fine, even sparse. This is generally a recipe for me losing my shit -- screaming, chain smoking, and scanning local news radio for some indication of when it might end -- but I was relatively calm. My girlfriend was asleep, which prevented any real epithet shouting, and the Dayton Air Show was going on. The Blue Angels kept flying back and forth over the interstate, and that was vaguely interesting. Plus, someone on Fort Wayne's WOWO was talking about Kobe.

I held it together for an hour or so, and then I saw some cop cars and hub bub. The accident was on the eastbound side, and it was grisly. I looked as we passed by and saw roughly the same image pictured in the above article, except when I saw it there was a leg hanging out of the door.

And some point yesterday afternoon I decided I want a CB.

It's odd that I was relatively unshaken after seeing that crash yesterday, but were it an analogous scenario involving air travel, I don't think I'd ever fly again.

Analogcabin @ 7:52 AM
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