I saw a car wreck on my way home from work the other day; the flashing lights of the ambulances and fire trucks a curiosity from afar.

As I drove closer, I could see a sliver of silver blue through the engines blocking half the road. There was a police officer directing traffic, trying to convince passers by to keep driving, keep walking, keep moving; don't stop, nothing to see here, go on about your business.

I couldn't see the cars until I was halfway through the intersection, and one of the ambulances roared away, sirens screaming over the din of radios and souped up engines.

There were two of them.

One was a compact or subcompact, maybe even a sedan -- it was impossible to tell which. I think it was upside down; the hood had been torn off, the front half of the vehicle unrecognizable. It lay crushed against the brick wall of a fence around someone's home, the wrought iron rods on top invisible.

The other was an SUV, also silver or light blue. It lay upside down, mangled beyond repair, on top of the iron bars of the fence. The front half shattered, dismembered; some in the street, some in a family's yard.

They must have been going fast to disintegrate that way, but I didn't see any skid marks on the asphalt, no evidence of any attempt to stop or slow down.

There was no mention of it in the paper or on the news, so I don't know if anyone survived.

I don't know how anyone could have.