I'm Simon, a software developer in my mid-fifties and divorced. I'm six foot three tall, I could do with losing a few pounds, but I'm not fat.
I was driving home across the Pennines after a long business trip. It was about 3am, February and freezing. I just wanted to get home.
It was a clear, moonlit night. I couldn't drive fast due to the treacherous conditions. The main roads had been gritted but many of the side roads had not.
I guess I should have stayed on the main roads. Ordinarily the side road I had taken was the shortest way home. About a mile ahead I could see the red tail lights of another driver, before they rounded the next bend. I wasn't alone in taking the riskier route.
I soon caught up with them as I was doing 30-40mph, and they were doing 25-30. Overtaking wasn't a safe option as there were some virtually sheer drops of a hundred feet or so to the left. There were also streams that sometimes flowed across the road, and they could be frozen.
I dropped well back to take any pressure off them and matched their speed. Better to get home a little later than not at all. Having them in front would also warn me if there were any icy patches.
There was no other traffic, nothing behind me, and we had met nothing coming the other way. Suddenly the back end of the other car stepped out! The driver didn't brake and steered into it. I eased off.
At first, I thought they'd managed to recover, but then they spun the other way in a complete three-sixty. Their headlights momentarily dazzling me as they faced me. Then they were gone!
"Fuuuuck, they've gone over the edge!" I gasped.
I'd lost most of my speed and gingerly turned the wheel to ease round the bend, but I went straight on! Fortunately I stopped when my sideways-facing wheels touched the verge.
I switched on my hazards and got out. It was a fucking ice rink. I stood at the hole they'd made in the dry stone wall; it was a bracken covered, forty-five degree slope, and then the ground disappeared. It looked bad, they could be seriously injured, or worse.
I got out my phone. "Shit, shit, shit..." no signal. I had to force myself to think and not panic. I went back to my car and got the warning triangle I thought I'd never need. Slipping and sliding, I made my way back the way we'd come. Trying to unfold the fucking thing as I went. I left it four hundred yards up the road to warn other drivers. Then got back to my car as fast as I could.
I put on my coat, emptied my rucksack of laptop and papers and stuffed in a travel rug, first-aid kit, travel sweets and a half-full bottle of water. Grabbing my torch I locked the car, and set off after them.
I sat down and shuffled my way through the flattened bracken. After thirty yards the ground dropped away, a sheer rock face. A tall pine forest grew right up to the base of the thirty to forty foot cliff.
The car, a Volvo estate, was nose-down on the forest floor, lights still on. I called out, my voice echoing back from another rock face. I heard no reply. (estate=station-wagon)
A lot of freshly broken pine tree tops and branches were lying around. Hopefully they had softened the fall as the car broke them off, but either way a Volvo was a good car to be in, I thought.
To my left was a diagonal ledge, just wide enough for a firm foothold. I made my way down, jumping off the last few feet.
The engine wasn't running, I couldn't smell fuel and felt so relieved at that. All I could see through the windows were deflated air-bags. I went round to the driver's door.
The car was nose-down at about forty-five degrees. I could just reach the door handle but couldn't operate it. I banged on the door.
"Hello? Can you hear me? Are you OK?"
"Oh, thank goodness. Yes, yes... I think so." a faint female voice replied.
"Can you open the door?"
I heard her scrabbling at the lever. The door popped open then gravity slammed it forwards, almost taking my head off.
It was a bizarre sight, fabric everywhere. White airbags, black robes and a nun with a wonky nun headdress slumped over the wheel. (I was later told it's not a headdress, the black is the veil and the white is a coif.)
"Is there anyone else? Are they OK?"
"It's just me and I think I'm OK, just bloody uncomfortable. Can you help me get out?"
I was a bit taken aback at hearing her swear but put it down to shock or something.
"It's freezing out here and no telling how long before help arrives. Can you open the passenger door, and I'll try to climb in that side."
"I'll try."
Leaning over she revealed a fair bit of plump leg. I estimated she'd be in her late sixties. She was wearing plain, black, flat shoes and her legs were encased in black nylons. Whether they were tights, stockings, or hold-ups, I couldn't tell.
The passenger door flew open. "Great job!" I exclaimed, "I'm going to try to close this one, keep your fingers out of the way."
After a couple of failed attempts, I managed to slam it shut. I went round to the other side. I struggled to climb in. (Those extra pounds.) I chucked my rucksack in. Then I managed to work the passenger seat belt as far as it would go. Using it as a rope I hauled myself up. Then, using the loop of the seatbelt as a makeshift stirrup, I stood, grabbed the seat and pulled myself inside.
I shut the door. Then I reclined the passenger seat, so I wasn't slumped forward.
"Right, let's see what we can do. I'm Simon by the way." I held out my hand.
"Hello Simon Bytheway, I'm Sister. Thank you so much for helping me." she said with a smile playing on her lips.
"So, a cursing nun with a sense of humour. Sister what? Ascension? Oops, no, quite the opposite in fact." I joked, tracing the dive-bombing trajectory of her car through the air with my hand, "Come on, is it Mary? Margaret? Sister seems too formal."
"Formal? I was letting you off with Sister. Anyone, no matter what their age, or rank, should address a nun as Sister. You should really address me as Reverend Mother. I'm the superior in our convent."
"Sorry." I said, feeling reprimanded.
"Seeing as you're being so polite and gallant, it's Miriam."
"Thank you for telling me, that's a lovely name. But Sister it will be, unless you prefer Reverend Mother."
She laughed, "No, given our circumstances that would be ridiculous. Sister is fine. No calling me Sis, mind you. Now help me out here, please."
"Can you wind the back of the seat down like I have?"
"Already tried, it's stuck."
I then looked in the back of the car. Apart from a holdall it was empty.
"Hang on." I said, clambering into the back.
I chucked the holdall into the passenger footwell to join my rucksack. Then, after a fair bit of struggling, I managed to fold down the rear seats. This created the huge, flat loading space for which old Volvo estates were famous. We could lie on that.
"Can you undo your seatbelt?"
She tried, but she was struggling.
"Here, let me try."
I released the belt then helped her to get it retracted out of the way. But slouched forward as she was, her breasts were trapping it. Freeing it meant putting my hands under her breasts to release it. They were huge, heavy, and soft.
"Sorry." I said.
"Needs must." she replied, a bit breathlessly.
From behind her, I tried to recline her seat.
"I can't budge it either." I said, panting with the effort. "You'll have to come out sideways if you can. If you can't, you'll have to get out of the driver's side door and climb in the passenger side door.