01/01/2008 (11:18 am)
“Watch out for wrong-way drivers …”
By Paula Wethington / paula@monroenews.com
One of my assigments for Monday’s edition of The Monroe Evening News was to follow up on the headlines out of Toledo of a multi-fatal accident Sunday night on I-280.
While we had an Associated Press version of the story, additional details such as the names of the victims were just becoming available as our newspaper was on deadline. It took several phone calls to pin down which Toledo Police Department office had the latest press release that the Toledo TV reporters were reporting on. (Monday’s story in Monroe Evening News)
That’s part of the routine for following a major story that’s just outside a newspaper’s main coverage area: you’re one step behind the reporters who are on the scene, but looking for angles that need to be emphasized for your audience. And sometimes, the rewrite includes translating local landmarks to something that makes a bit more sense to a regional audience.
The weird thing about that story landing on my desk is I know that part of Toledo very well.
About once a month, I am in Oregon, Ohio, and really do drive past that Taco Bell on Navarre Ave. that played such a key part in what happened Sunday night.
A couple more times a month, I’m driving the entire stretch of I-280 from I-75 to its terminus near the Ohio Turnpike on my way to visit my parents, sisters or friends who live elsewhere in northwest Ohio.
Last night was one of those travels. My husband and I had New Year’s Eve holiday plans in Fremont, Ohio.
He had seen the TV headlines about the accident late Sunday night, and I had followed the headlines throughout the day.
So as we merged off I-75 onto I-280, we started looking for signs of the fatal wreck.
“That must be where it was,” I said near the Manhattan St. overpass. “There are fresh tracks in the median.”
We kept talking about the details of that wreck on a highway that we travel on so frequently. For example, I had heard a customer talking about the accident to one of my co-workers. And I was surprised to see how many national news sites had picked up on the headline. (FYI: Toledo Blade’s coverage today includes many details that were not available yesterday.)
“How far is it to where he pulled onto I-280?” my husband asked, referring to the wrong-way driver.
“He got on at Navarre Ave.,” I said.
This surprised my husband, who had not yet heard that information. “That’s a long way!”
Then we approached the I-280 bridge over the Maumee River. I had forgotten that the Navarre Ave. interchange is south of the bridge.
The new I-280 bridge is high and long, and can be intimidating for drivers. That afternoon, as we drove southbound on the bridge, we wondered about the frightening aspect of a northbound driver in our lanes. There would be nowhere to go.
“It’s amazing it took him this long to hit someone,” my husband said.
In addition, as we were soon reminded, the Navarre Ave. exit ramp is so busy with hospital and shopping traffic during much of the day that a wrong-way driver would have a hard time geting onto the freeway to begin with. (However, traffic is much lighter on I-280 during the night.)
Then we made our holiday visits in Ohio. Most of our evening was spent talking about sports and movies and family news. Yes, we talked a bit about the accident a bit since nearly everyone we spoke to knew about the tragedy.
But it was a little odd to hear, as we headed home to Monroe, some of the relatives say to us:
“Watch out for wrong-way drivers on I-280.”
1 Comment
Comment by LunaPierCook
A couple months ago I was taking my kids to Tecumseh on a Sunday evening. My oldest son Aaron, aka Blogsmonroe’s Teen Tech, was driving north on 23 to the Dundee exit for M-50. Just south of the beginning of the concrete median wall for that exit, Aaron was in the left lane. Traffic ahead suddenly parted, and there were a pair of headlights coming straight at us in that same lane.
It was a totally surreal thing. Aaron seemed to calmly move out to the right lane, and that car flew past us. It was one of those moments when the brain stops working altogether and all of us went numb. Aaron kept driving, past other vehicles that had pulled over … and then we were all suddenly yelling out of sheer fear, all Hell breaking loose among us, even though the danger was behind us, moving away at a speed at least 140 mph (our speed plus theirs in opposite directions).
Aaron’s a new driver, and in a short time had an emotional meltdown in the parking lot of the hotel to the west of 23. I ended up finishing the drive to their house.
When you’re on the road and you see what shouldn’t be there like that, especially at night, the mind sometimes doesn’t process it correctly. There were five people in our car, and no one reacted immediately to the oncoming danger.
I wonder if the same thing happened to the people in the minivan in this story. It may have.
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