Checking In, not Checking Out

I'm alive. I almost got into a car wreck a few nights ago, but...didn't. Our city is paying for its shortsightedness in road planning from several decades ago: now it seems we need all our roads widened to accomodate the increased traffic. This means a lot of late-night construction. I was on my way back from somewhere in the dark and had just come through an intersection, and the cars ahead of me suddenly slammed on their brakes in a place where we were all supposed to be accelerating, because our lane had been blocked by construction cones. Lovely. I slammed on my brakes, too, and I can just tell you now that my life did not flash before my eyes. My death, however, did. I remember thinking, "I'm not gonna stop in time, I'm not gonna make it, I'm not...oh, my god, I stopped!" And I did. The Ford 500 (Phouka) stopped on a dime, about six or so inches from the next guy's bumper. The ABS even kicked in, and I know I lost some rubber. The guy behind me hit the right-turn-only-lane, and we avoided a several-car pile-up. Barely. Seems my number was not up yet, but it easily could have been. Ford, you've got good brakes, and I've got good reflexes. Nice work, team.

Moving on...

I'm finished with Chapter 7 and am now into Chapter Eight. Just a couple more to go to the halfway crisis point.

What? The above experience wasn't a crisis point? Ah, no. My character's car was run into a ditch--before I had to hit the skids on the highway. Isn't it weird how life sometimes mimics art, and vice versa? If anything else in my life starts to coincide too heavily with what's in the book, I'm outta here, and there'll be movie rights to sell.