Early one afternoon last March, I was driving down a narrow winding road in the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia.

It was snowing pretty hard. There was a stiff wind and a lot of slush on the road.

But I wasn't worried. Our truck had four-wheel drive. I liked that little truck.

Chevy Colorado, leather seats, sport package?

But as I approached a curve, suddenly an old Hyundai came sliding into view around the corner from the other direction.

Way too fast. His back end flew out over the shoulder.

But somehow the young driver pulled it back, then it slung across to the other side of the road and came fish tailing straight toward me. I took my foot off the gas but I didn't

dare stomp on the brakes. I was afraid of going sideways myself. I couldn't

stop. I couldn't turn. I couldn't turn.

I couldn't believe it.

I was thinking, oh man, here it comes.

Yeah, head-on collision.

I went from about 35 miles an hour to a dead stop.

The impact slammed my truck sideways into the ditch,

completely crushed my front end.

His car was a mangled mess on the road.

But a few minutes later, we both climbed out, basically unhurt.

My neck was a bit stiff for a few days.

And that was it.

I became a big believer in airbags. The high school kid who hit me

now mows my lawn. Some problems sneak up on you. Suddenly, pow, you're on your back. No idea what

happened. But other problems you can see coming from a long way off. They come rushing up,

...