From Beth Holt — January 19, 2026

Tonight, I actually prepared a home-cooked meal, from scratch. Eye-round roast, cornbread dressing, green beans, etc. Though many people do this every day, it hasn’t been feasible for me for the past twelve years or so, due to unpredictable mobility issues. Standing up is worse than walking — and cooking requires standing, so I don’t do it often. It tasted pretty good; but I didn’t have any iced tea on hand; no soft drinks in the house; and I’d downed about a gallon of water — so, after supper, I craved a Dr. Pepper.

George was watching the football game, so I told him I’d be finding a drive-thru from which to get Peppered Up, and I’d be back — oh, eventually. Maybe. I hadn’t left the house in 4 days, and cabin fever & cravings connived to break me out of confinement . I donned my warm Patagonia coat and my ugly Ugg boots; pushed all the seat- and steering-wheel-heater buttons, and pointed the Palisade toward McDonald’s at Flat Rock, which is a very quick 9-mile trip out here in the country.

Normal people might be asking why I didn’t just stop at a convenience store or Food Lion, 3 to 5 miles, and hot-foot it inside to pick up a pack — but when walking is a painful proposition, you learn to punt, or at least find ways to cope. So, I am a proud connaisseur of drive-thru establishments.

Here in the south, any variety of soft drink can be called a coke. Or co-cola, even if it’s a Dr. Pepper. My favorite kind of coke is Dr. P — no bones about it, and I prefer to accept no substitutes.

I don’t like McDonald’s app for ordering — actually, there’s not much about McDonald’s I like — but tonight, I pulled into the parking lot, paused for a moment and clicked on the app. BUT — a look at the menu told me they were OUT of Dr. Pepper. I made a command decision, and opted to drive a few miles farther east towards town to get a Dr. P from Burger King. On the way back home, I’d pull into the drive-thru at Bruster’s to order some orange sherbet, since grandson Ian loves it, and I do love spoiling and surprising the grandkids. And there is actually no legal limit on the number of drive-thrus you can drive-thru on any given day.

Mickey D’s parking lot empties right onto US Highway 60 if you’re heading eastbound. I was right behind a smaller SUV as we waited our turn to turn — and, you probably aren’t surprised that I was singing along at the top of my lungs to “All I Ask of You” from Phantom of the Opera, and getting thirstier by the minute.

Then, from somewhere in the darkness of the night — WHAM. BAM. BANG — a huge crashing noise drowned out my loud music. My eyes darted toward the direction of the sound, and I looked up to the left, just in time to see a silver pickup truck kinda bouncing in the left-hand lane of the eastbound side of 60 — then, it seemed to lift and go slightly airborne through the stoplight, landing in the median in front of Tractor Supply, maybe 100 feet away from me. A small red sedan was about 30 feet ahead of me, pointing westbound in the eastbound lane, damaged in front and in back. The airbags flapped and looked like a load of sheets hanging out to dry.

In an instant, my fingers dialed 911, I’m pretty sure before the cars involved had come to a full stop. It was 8:16 PM. I followed the dispatcher’s directions to get out of my car and ask about injuries, number of vehicles & people involved, and if anyone was trapped inside a car. I originally thought there were two cars involved, but when I turned around to walk back to my car, I saw the the car in front of me had been hit in the front grill area. My car was about ten feet behind Car #3. A matter of seconds.

I don’t want to divulge any identifying information about the drivers involved. I have no idea what caused the accident, or who was to blame. But as I watched the driver of the red car slide out from under the airbags and onto the pavement, I had the distinct feeling that I had witnessed something highly unusual — maybe even miraculous. This was a strong, hard, unforgiving impact. The saving grace may have been that only one car was traveling at highway speed; one was barely moving, or completely stopped; another may have been moving slowly, though I really don’t know for sure. One driver lost a shoe in the tangle or airbags, and baby, it’s cold outside in Virginia tonight. She shivered in a way that has nothing to do with temperature. But nobody was really hurt, though I bet they’ll be sore tomorrow.

One of the interesting things about living in a rural county with low-density population is that we can always find connections with each other — which might not always be a good thing! Several lovely people stopped to help and encourage these shaken drivers. One had been the school bus driver for one of the victims; one victim’s home was only one house away from the accident, so family arrived in a matter of minutes. Emergency personnel were on scene very quickly. Our oldest son, Chip, spent several years as a 911 dispatcher, EMT and volunteer firefighter in the county. He worked dozens of accident scenes back then, but this is the closest his shell-shocked mama has ever been to an accident of this magnitude. I called to tell him I was out playing in the street with his old buddies. Chip is a pastor in South Carolina these days, and he helps the police/fire departments down there when their personnel need someone to talk to who has been there and done that.

So, I thought about the emotional impact of something like this. One second, you’re singing along to “All I Ask of You” and the next you’re asking God to do exceedingly more than you can ask or imagine, to change the impact of this accident from major to minor. It’s been six hours — and this uninvolved bystander is still in shock. I won’t sleep tonight. How much more deeply are those 3 drivers and their families feeling this?

A matter of seconds made me the uninvolved 4th car. What if I had driven my faster red Mustang convertible instead of the pokey ol’ lady Palisade? Even ten seconds would’ve put me in the accident instead of behind it. In an ‘augenblick’, the blink of an eye, cars get smashed; a roadway becomes littered with debris; lives are changed. I don’t know the long-term effects tonight’s event will have in the lives of those connected to it — but I know that anything this dramatic, this hard-hitting will cause ripples across the lives of those who LIVED through it. The greatest thing about it is that they LIVED through it. Those of us who’ve lost loved ones in auto accidents know how fragile life is — how quickly it can be ended — how deeply we can grieve for years to come. Yet tonight — TONIGHT! We can rejoice because we have air bags and seat belts. Cars can be replaced. Three very unique people are still with their families on this night, and who knows the magnitude of contributions they might make in this old broken world? So, will you join me in celebrating their precious lives? And tonight, I’m especially thankful for the responders who help us when we need their skills.

And, oh — I stopped at Sheetz on the way back home and popped a DP top to celebrate. My feet were so cold it didn’t hurt to walk into the store!