Driving along on a typically dry and clear southern California afternoon, I launched my little econo-box of a car onto the freeway, fully expecting the typical southland stop and crawl --- and determined to make the most of whatever open road I could capture. It was as if the fates had smiled on me. There it was, an open freeway. The few cars that went whizzing by were obviously doing what I was gearing up to do: hit the fast lane, crank the stereo and fly. I slid across the lanes, put some weight into the accelerator pedal, sat back and sang along to the radio. This was nice; it was, in fact, perfect---what driving was meant to be.

I hit the apex of the interchange and somehow didn't notice the red lights in front of me. I may have been looking away from the road; or perhaps I was just day-dreaming. Point is, when I did see the brake lights, it was much too late to stop---but there was plenty of time to pray.

Then the fates really did smile on me. I hit the brakes, turned the wheel, and wound up facing the wrong way on the side of the road. No impact, no injuries, just one very pale and shaken teenager.