On the morning of December 8, 2010, I passed two—not just one but two—accidents on the highway. Usually, there aren’t any. But that day, one of them closed down the entire highway. And I was one of the first batch of drivers to get caught in the resulting traffic jam, even before news of the accident hit the news. The experience gave me some time to think, and I recalled accident stories from my past.

That’s when I decided to write this story.

(Yes, that’s sometimes how long it takes me to go from post idea to final publication.)

(By the way, this is not exactly a funny story. But it should be relatively fun to read, and I’m desperate for Friday material this week. So—sorry—this is what you’re stuck with.)

About a year before I met my Beloved, I totaled an almost-new Geo Prizm. I was much younger then, a young twenty-something carefree, still living with my parents.

When I wrote this piece, I was not sure I was ready to talk about it. I had not even told the story to my Beloved yet. But, I thought, maybe writing about it would make it easier. That was over 5 months ago. Since then, I’ve told my Beloved part of the story, but this is the first time I’ve gone through it in any detail. I’m still not sure I’m ready to talk about it.

About a year before I met my Beloved, I totaled an almost-new Geo Prizm. I was much younger then, a young twenty-something carefree, still living with my parents. (That’s a different story, which I’ve queued to run this Friday.)

For the next twenty years, I never got into an accident.