I was bummed enough. Coerced from my high school girlfriend prematurely - back to my second term of college after an ephemeral winter break. Plus there was that whole thing with my ruptured appendix and soon to be hematoma, etc. No driving - doctor's orders. I was outside Cleveland. What did he know anyway, he gave me a second waistband to take out an organ the size of a peapod. Mid-day darkness. the flakes opacified the windshield. The car directly in front of me swerved. off to the side of the road with a sudden thud. I tried braking. No use. Eventually the silver bullet, an 85 cutlass siera, followed his fate. I hiked back the 60 meters to his car. He futily reved the car to 70 rpms. We shovelled. We shook. He left. I had a lunch ticket to sin for at least a week.
I got the call from Shayna three days later. I can't remember the name of the company. Evidently I had caused an accident, steering someone off the road in a mad fury in the midst of the worst blizzard since the last one. I couldn't help but remember that Goofy, Jeckyl and road-rage Hyde cartoon they show you for speeding. I called Dad. Told him the truth. He didn't believe me. But was happy to tell the insurance company to fuck off. Never heard again. There should be laws against that. I guess there are. Fraud it's called. Maybe it should be called a bad samaritan law.