Have you ever witnessed or experienced something terrible?  Did this experience transpire when you were a child?  Have you remember this tragedy ever since?  This is because traumatizing experiences stick in children’s memories forever.  Car accidents, for example, are an event that no one wants to partake in.  They can be fatal, and as a matter of fact, one occurs every 14 seconds.  They can leave mental and physical disabilities on people for the rest of their lives.  Even though not all childhood traumatizing memories impact people, they still are remembered forever.

One warm summer evening after football practice, I got into my car and drove to my friend Tyson’s house. It was Saturday night, and we had plans to go to a party. I showered and got dressed and waited for him to do the same. The party was for my friend Benjamin because it was his 17th birthday. The plan was to ask him to hangout, ditch the meet up spot, and go prepare his house for the surprise party while he was gone. Finally Tyson was ready, and we could head out for the night. I texted Ben, <>. Then we made our way out of the house and to my vehicle.
We pulled out of Tyson’s driveway and started on the abnormal route to Benjamin’s house. The dark wet road under the car was faintly lit by the low beams. We were bumping the aux cord with the windows down, just as teens do, speeding around corners, and talking about things that had no relevance at the time. Keeping in mind that Ben soon would realize we ditched him and head home, I put the accelerator to the floor.

Roaring loudly was the engine of my white car as my friend and I sped around the corners of the smooth dark wet highway. The wind outside sounded like jet engines were connect to the car. The music in the car was as loud as a major rock concert. I heard my friend yell something, but I could not make out what it was. “Fear!” I thought I heard. That didn’t make sense I said to myself. I listened again- “Deer!” I looked back at the road to see two large brown figures sitting in the path of my car. I stomped on the brake pedal as if it was a small grass fire that needed to be put out. My teeth smashed tightly together. I grasped my steering wheel securely and tried to swerve, but it was no use. 

My mind raced backwards. I was eight years old, and my father had just picked me up from my mother’s house.
Turning down the icy road, were the tires of the 1979 Ford f-150 that my father drove. I sat quietly in the passenger seat listing to the classic rock radio station. Then suddenly, the truck shook as it swerved over the curb onto the grass next to the pavement. “Oh sh*t!” my father bellowed. It seemed as if a snow blower was hurling snow over the windshield of the vehicle as it sailed across the ground. I grabbed my seat tightly. As the truck slowly came to a halt, it devoured a street sign, chucking it through the passenger side of the windshield. The shattered glass of the windshield had a pattern that looked much like a spider web. He ripped the wheel right, and the large rusty brown truck whipped back onto the snow covered pavement. The truck rolled down the road back to the house with the sign still wedged into the cab. He pulled the truck into the old white single stall garage that was in the backyard. My father wiped some glass from my coat and asked if I was alright. Still in shock, I nodded my head slowly because apparently there had not been a scratch on me. My father closed the swinging doors, and we went inside.

“Ahh!” I heard my friend screaming from the passenger seat as I came to. My heart was racing faster than racecar. I glared at the large 8-point whitetail deer as my car collided with it. The deer was struck on the left side, directly in the center of its gut. The grille and Buick logo on the front of the car smashed inward towards the engine compartment. The front of my hood wrinkled like a piece of white paper. Puffs of brown and white fur shot every which way in the air. It looked as if a fire cracker exploded. The seatbelts in the car locked up on my friend and me, holding us tightly in the chairs. The deer’s spine snapped, and his head swung around, knocking into the driver side front fender deafeningly. The car tires finally caught enough grip to bring it to a stop. The deer then flew from the front of the car. I remember witnessing it spin across the road as a boomerang, except it didn’t come back. It slid across through the other lane into the tall dead yellow grass. I waited very patiently. Nothing happened. The deer was dead. Smoke tumbled out of the hood crevasses as if there was an outraged forest fire burning under the bonnet. I exited the car and waited for it to cool before driving it back to my friend Tyson’s home.

That day I not only realized that I was lucky, but I realized that the car accident I had been in with my father had not fled my memories. The first accident I had ever been in was with my father, and it was a traumatizing experience for me as a small boy. I was young and did not understand what was going on or the outcomes that could happen. The loud noises and breaking of the glass made me believe I was going to be seriously injured during that time. This is the reason why I still remember the accident. This is the reason why  my flashback occurred during my accident. And this is the reason why children remember traumatizing experiences for the rest of their lives.