It was winter, early morning, and when the truck began to fishtail, he panicked.

He threw the wheel hard to one side and then the next--back and forth like that until the passenger-side tires lifted off the ground and everything went slow.

Dirt and grass and shattered windshield sprayed toward his face as he dangled peacefully from the seatbelt, the world rolling and his head suspended inches from the metal roof screeching down Texas asphalt.

The truck stopped. Then for fear of what might come next, he hurriedly unbuckled, crawled through the empty windshield and ran.

But the road was empty.

And save for some minor scrapes picked up from scrambling through the wreckage, he was unscathed.

---