Flashback

I am almost sixteen when I am awakened by the sound of a horn and blaring headlights.  I am in a ’69 Pontiac Le Mans, two door coupe.  There were thirteen of us in the car, 14 if you count that one of the girls was pregnant along with Bobbie Sue, a girl who would give birth to my son a year on down the line.  I glance at the speedometer that went up to 135 mph and it was pegged.  I then glance up to see a semi truck’s headlights and I am in his lane.  I figure that the semi must have been doing 60 to 70 mph because we were on a highway.  We were headed to a party out in the middle of nowhere; and this was to be my first brush with death.  To this day, I believe it was the will of the Lord only that kept us all from losing our lives that night.  I jerk the steering wheel to the right as hard as I could and then back to the left.  It must have been one of those low riding trailers because instead of going under it, we rode right beside it, busting off the mirror with sparks flying from the door handle until we finally cleared the back of the trailer.  The next day, I looked at the door handle and realized how close to death we all had came that night as would come to happen so many more times in my life.