I woke up at the wheel. It took a few minutes to realize I couldn’t move. I was dazed and afraid. I looked into the rear view mirror and could see my body leaned limply against the window. I was alarmed. I didn’t feel dead, but how else could I explain being able to see myself lying in the back seat, and how in the world did dead feel anyway.
I wasn’t a bad driver, and always took extra care to make certain I was cautious when I was behind the wheel. A handsome gentleman approached the car from the emergency vehicle. The police had blocked off the freeway and had flares marking the scene to redirect the traffic. He stood looking in the window and I smiled at him. He looked grimly through the back window.
“She sure was pretty,” he said.
I began to cry. I had to be dead. But how had it happened, how could it have happened without me knowing?
They opened the back door to the car. My body tumbled forward. The man from the emergency vehicle gently caught me, and laid me back on a stretcher on the side of the road. I watch as they lifted it. The jolt as they raised it shook my body.
I woke at the steering wheel. My car was still moving about fifty five miles per hour. I slowed down and pulled over to the side. A few moments later an emergency vehicle pulled up to the car. When the driver approached the car the hairs on my neck rose. I smiled at him through the window. He smiled back. I rolled the window down.
“Can I help you with something? He asked.
“You already have,” I said, “And thank you, if you don’t mind can you escort me from the freeway, I’m very tired and don’t need to be behind the wheel. I didn’t realize I was as tired as I am, and I certainly don’t want to cause an accident.”
He hooked my car up an escorted me to the cab of his truck.
I looked back and saw the admiring look on his face.
“You sure are pretty, would it be okay if I called you sometime?” he asked.
I figured it was the least I could do since he had saved my life.
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