The fog that morning was cotton candy thick. Maybe the red car had to run off the road at the curve to avoid a head-on collision with some other vehicle. All we know is that the driver knocked down our neighbor’s “Land For Sale” sign and kept on going through the wood fence post attached to our old farm gate, skidding deep ruts through the ground, and over the driveway, shedding the passenger’s side rear-view mirror and part of the fender, showering glass and bits of plastic and metal all the way. It came to rest a few feet in front of the grand old oak tree I’ve photographed so often. Lucky for the driver. Lucky for the tree.
It happened either Monday night of last week or early that Tuesday morning. It wasn’t Saturday night out here in the boonies, so probably the accident was caused by a slick road, thick fog, that wild-ass curve right in front of the gate and excess vehicle speed, rather than the usual weekend culprit in such matters around here — booze.
Guess we’ll never know. The perpetrator/victim fled the scene, leaving only bits and pieces and a smashed up gate.