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Why?

Maybe the driver was having a seizure or a heart attack.

The truck pushed me back into the oncoming traffic lane. I was going to have a head-on collision and end up accordioned between the truck and God knew what other vehicle.

What is happening? People could die!

I honked my horn. Then I just leaned on it, trying to warn any cars that might be coming around the next bend—this one about half a mile ahead—while I tried to figure out what to do.

I craned my head out my window and turned to get a look at the driver.

He grinned at me.

Holy hell. He wanted me to die.

If I didn’t have a head-on collision, then he was going to shove me into the flimsy looking guardrails and right off the cliff.

Think!

I spied my purse on the floor of the passenger side. It had my phone in it. That was it, I needed to call 911. But first I needed to stop them from pushing me. I took a deep breath. My regular brakes weren’t doing any good, just burning my tires. I engaged my parking brake, and that slowed things down, but it didn’t stop us. I reached down for my purse but I couldn’t grab it, not with my seatbelt on.

“Fuck the seatbelt!” I yelled out.

Chaos whined again.

“It’s okay, girl, I’m going to get us out of this, I promise.”

I did something insane and popped the seatbelt to grab my purse.

“Got it!”

And then I almost cried when I saw that the phone had fallen out. I had no chance of reaching it before we got to the second curve.

I pulled my seatbelt back on and almost had a heart attack when I saw how close we were to the curve ahead. I threw my whole body into turning the wheel. I knew deep in my soul they were going to push me into the barrier so that I would go careening over the cliff.

Metal screamed as the side of my Jeep kissed the barrier as I flew around the curve. The truck stayed right up against my rear.

Braking didn’t work, so I did the opposite. I took off the emergency brake and started to gun it, hoping I could put a little distance between us and at least get back into the correct lane. But the other driver knew immediately what I was doing and got there first. He drew up parallel to me, then swerved. He hit the passenger side, trying to send me through the barrier again.

Chaos yelped.

I hit the accelerator again, practically pushing it through the floor. For an instant nothing happened.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Then my Jeep jolted into life. I miraculously sped ahead of the truck, back in the right lane, but I had overshot and was close to hitting the side of the mountain. I corrected course. My clammy hands were so slippery that trying to steer was almost impossible, but at least I was now kind of in my lane as I started to race down a steeper slope. My eyes were constantly shooting between the view in front of me and my rearview mirror. I tore around another curve, losing my view of the truck. When the road straightened again I looked back.

I saw neither hide nor hair of the truck.

I never aspired to be a NASCAR driver. I never played driving games at the family fun centers, but by God, I was planning on winning a trophy today. I was almost doubling the speed limit. Nobody was going to kill my dog!

It wasn’t until I fed onto Hwy 321, with no appearance of the truck, that I began to feel safe. Not calm, just a little safe.

I knew where the animal hospital was located since I’d met the vet at the grocery store one day. I drove straight to it, a block down from the hardware store, right next to the beauty parlor.

For the first time I didn’t smile when I read the word ‘parlor.’ I was too worried about Chaos. Another miracle happened, and I found a parking spot right in front of Jasper Creek Animal Hospital. I threw open my door, slammed it, then opened the back door.