There was a pretty bad car wreck about 20 car lengths in front of me on I-94 last year. Young woman in a compact car, (I suspect texting) got my notice because she was weaving in and out of rush-hour dense traffic, clipped a work-van, then spun sideways and went into the middle divider, sending debris everywhere like a NASCAR crash, and she bounced back out into the middle lane.
It was kind of slow-mo, and very heavy on the surreal "Is this REALLY happening?" feeling.
Traffic went through the usual shocked shuffle of some going on, some stopping, some pulling over. I actually made an effort to navigate around the other cars and pull up even with her, and got out. The front end of her car was smoking badly, and not knowing if it was actually steam from coolant, or actual fire, I figured I needed to move. Someone else not paying attention and ramming into her wreck was also on my mind too.
Getting out of the car and running onto the freeway up to her car was a VERY strange feeling. Despite knowing intellectually I was doing something "right", it felt
wrong on a very deep gut level, like... standing up in church during a moment of silence, and screaming obscenities, or the same uncomfortable feeling if someone else were to do it. Or like witnessing an ugly domestic fight right in the middle of a nice restaurant etc.
As I got around to the driver's side, I was able to see the woman sitting up in her seat, looking very stunned in a cloud of airbag smoke, but otherwise looking kind of intact. I rapped on the window to get her attention, and she opened the door. Surprising myself that I managed to think of, I told her to wait a bit, to make sure her back/neck was okay before she moved and weigh that against the risk of fire (which was looking more to be coolant steam), but in shock, she just got out of the car, presumably physically okay, and stood there looking dumbly at the car.
I finally had to yell at her and grab her elbow that she should come to the side of the road with me in case someone ran into her wreck (and us). Once off to the side, I tried asking her if she was okay again, but in brain-lock, shock or whatever (drugs maybe?), she wouldn't answer, and just started picking at her phone, as if figuring out who to call.
Looking back, I saw several people stopped on the emergency lane on their phones, and could already hear sirens, so I did not bother to call 911.
State troopers and some firemen led her away, and I stuck around to fill out an accident witness report.
What really struck me about that innate desire to freeze, or not get involved, was that it felt almost as if you were about to do something embarrassing or wrong, like stage fright, or farting in church.
