Friday, January 8, 1988
Patches of ice on our narrow road. I'm coming down the mountain to work. From the rear somebody's headlights cut through mist, coming fast. Without hesitation the BMW passes on a blind curve. I see a blond woman, tight jaw, black coat. She swerves in front of me and starts to fishtail out of control. I slam the brakes. I skid. My truck slides to the gravel shoulder and stops at the edge of a precipice. The BMW recovers traction and disappears around another curve.
I shut off the motor and close my eyes. Breathing. Loving the fact that I breathe.
Frantic woman, late,
passes skidding on a curve to
reach her boring job.