Dad had finally let me drive! I was at least two years past the legal age; I’d been watching all my friends speed by for that long, anyway. I’d been through the permit, and the parent passenger-driving thing, but finally, he was letting me do it myself! I felt a rush of childlike joy. Maybe not the best for operating a ton-heavy Ford Explorer.

The joy had been taken out as I got used to emptying my wallet for gas. Especially with this guzzler that drank the stuff like me at Thanksgiving.

But today, the local Gulf station had a $3.78 price tag (can’t believe I’m even calling that cheap), and it was pretty close. After filling up, I distinctly remember feeling the same rush of exhilaration – even behind this junker – and floored the gas pedal, testing its boundaries. It gave more of a jolt than I was expecting.

Especially when my truck collided with the oncoming car.

I woke up – a dream? My clock said 8:04.

But I didn’t feel anything. My bed. The air.

Nothing.