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bugger; I could die here, and being kind of annoyed with myself; somehow there still
hadn't been time to feel properly afraid. The sliding went on, then there was another not
quite so dramatic impact, and then another thud, this time from beneath, and then silence.
I had, I realised,
smelled
the whole accident. There had been a damp, fresh, new-
mown grass and earth odour as I'd slammed into the bank at the side of the road, then a
sharp smell of something like flint, like rock when you strike it with another rock, then a
scent of chalk, then burning, charring paint and hot oil.
I opened my eyes and looked around.
Well, I certainly appeared to be alive. The car was the right way up, sitting on what
was left of its wheels just off my own side of the road on a patch of fairly level grass
by a shallow slope of heather and fern. Definitely not poised rocking over a high cliff
in an
Italian Job
kind of way. I moved my extremities, waggling fingers and toes, and
everything seemed to be working. I couldn't feel much pain; back and head a bit sore,
ears ringing, and I guessed I was slightly in shock so might not be entirely aware of any
other injuries I might have, but really this was quite a good result after thinking only a
second or two ago that I might be about to die. And no fire; the car did not appear to be
showing any signs of going up in flames. That had to be a good thing.
On the downside, I recall thinking, it is still raining.
There was a white car stopped almost opposite me on the far side of the road with
two people in it; they must have seen the last part of the accident as the car sailed upside
down across the road in front of them and then flipped the right way up just across from
them. The driver's side window was lowered and two pale young anxious faces, one male
and one female, peered at me through the rain. I undid my seat belt, kicked at my door -
it opened with only a minimum of complaint - got shakily to my feet on the grass, made
a show of brushing myself down and said, 'Aren't airbags wonderful?'
My only excuse for this pathetic piece of sub-Bondian attempted drollery, miserably
inadequate though it may be, is that I must indeed have been a bit in shock.
The pale young couple were from New Zealand. There was no mobile coverage on
that stretch of road so they very kindly took me to the Stronlossit Hotel in Roybridge, left
me their address in case I needed them as witnesses (though all they had really witnessed
were the final stages of the result of my spectacular stupidity) then went on their way.
I phoned Ann and then the cops.
'Hello. I've just had an accident on the A86 by the junction with the wee road to
Fersit.'
The guy at the other end took my name and details and established that I basically had
a few minor cuts and bruises and that there were no other vehicles or persons involved.
Then he asked, 'Was there damage to any road furniture, Mr Banks?'
