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 the curve, suddenly an old Hyundai came sliding into view around

the corner from the other direction.

The way too fast is back in the flu-boat 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 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.

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