that pickup is moving into my lane. it’s just past rush hour, and the traffic is moving, all four lanes of it, at approximately 65 miles per hour. you get in a lane, and you stay in that lane.

but this truck’s moving, isn’t it? it is, it is, the driver doesn’t see me. i can’t get out of this lane, i can’t move over to my right because there are cars there, i’d just be putting someone else in the same predicament, and someone else and someone else.

i look back again and the truck is still coming over. the driver definitely does not see me. i could slow down, i move my foot to slow down and just as i touch the brake, the truck hits me.

the truck is going 60 mph, i bet. i’m going about the same, and this is all happening really fast.

there’s a sound of metal bending and snapping. the window to my left pops and shatters, it’s a warm evening, the sunroof is open, i’m wearing short sleeves and the glass rips into my forearms, and this is all so strangely reminiscent of something, but i can’t put my finger on what. the force of the truck, now directed at me, begins collapsing the metal of the door, and this is all happening so quickly, i don’t know how to stop it.

the door keeps giving way and caving inward, toward me, and then i realize that the snapping sounds are more than metal – that one, right there, that was my left leg, breaking, being pushed and twisted, and i suddenly know why everyone drives with their right foot, and i’m glad i still have mine guiding the machine.

i bought this car for its safety features and right as i begin wondering why the hell they aren’t working, the side airbags kick into action. but they’re too late; with the door collapsed there’s no room for the bags to inflate so they shift, and explode to places they aren’t meant to, and there’s another pop, this time it’s my elbow and a few seconds later further down, it’s my wrist, and i am starting to realize that right now, my left side is practically completely broken, and why the fuck is this truck still coming at me, why won’t it pull away, and i’m braking and all that’s accomplishing is driving the headlights of the truck deeper into my leg.

at some point in time i look down, and even though it’s getting dark outside, the truck’s headlights are pouring into my car, and this is when i start wondering what the cars behind us are doing, and i hope they’re braking and not going to make this any worse, because i look down at myself – do i really need to keep my eyes on the road, now – and in the lamp light i can see that my pants are moist and blackened, and i try to keep my right side in control of the car, but then i notice my other arm, misshapen and awry on my lap, gently jutting against the spreading blackness that i know is my blood.

this all happened so quickly, but yet so slowly with time to think. when i noticed the blood, this is when they said i lost consciousness, where the truck ripped away and my car slipped to a stop, quietly and peacefully in the same lane i’d been driving in all along, like nothing had happened. i don’t remember a whole lot after that.