1987-ish

I was around eight years old. We were driving over a bridge. Just like the one below, that Frecklehead and I drove over this weekend. I had fallen asleep so that my head had bobbed to the center of the backseat and my body was held up only by my seatbelt. I was leaning against John. He hated when I did that. But he was asleep, too.

We were on our way back from an out of town track meet. My brother, my sister, my mother and I. John had placed first in everything. I was just trying to keep up with him.

In a lot of ways.

There was a semi-truck in front of us. A tire came loose. I woke up to the sound of it flying under my mother's Honda Civic. Sparks were everywhere. The semi-truck veered off of the bridge.

Everyone survived.

I'd forgotten about that accident until just now.