(no subject)
"Whenever I'm on the highway, I think of crashing. I think of crashing in a purely speculative manner, the same way people think of how they'd most like to die. I wonder what it would be like to be sideswiped by a car, to be plastered against my seat as the car spun through three lanes of traffic, finally impacting against a metal guardrail, where we'd then be hit by some idiot illegally passing in the breakdown lane. The limp seat belt hanging to my side would not save me as I flew through the windshield, luckily suffering only a minor concussion and superficial lacerations from the glass, but then having my abdomen torn open by the mangled hood. I wondered what my last thoughts would be as I lay on the ground, the poinding in my head harmonizing with the Doppler whoosh of passing cars, choking on the dust they raised. I doubt I would think anything. I'd be too busy coughing."