In 1999, 41,611 people were killed in the estimated 6,279,000 police-reported motor vehicle traffic crashes, 3,236,000 people were injured, and 4,188,000 crashes involved property damage only.
-taken from the USDMV web site
I stare into the blackness above me. The way the rain streaks out of the sky to hit my face reminds me of that screensaver that's supposed to look like you are flying through space. I feel each droplet hit my skin, mixing with the warmth of the blood from the gash I barely feel. I always wondered what it would be like to come so close to death that you could see it, a bright white light at the end of the tunnel, leading into infinite nothingness. I feel the pavement beneath the back of my head; it's not so uncomfortable. There should be a lot of noise, the fire engine come to save my burning skeleton of a car, the ambulance to try and keep me from reaching that white light or the dozens of rubberneckers, so desperate to catch a glimpse of someone else's pain and misery. But I can't hear any of that, only the sound of the rain hitting my skin; everything else has becomes white noise, lost in the wash. A sort of background montage to my ballet of injury and destruction. Your body's natural reaction is to bring you away from the pain, to make you numb while it tries to heal. Most people at this point feel like they want to be back in their beds, the dark warmth of unconsciousness. I live for moments like this, its only at the point of death do you know that you are truly alive. What's that saying? You don't know what you have until its gone, how true. No one can truly know they are alive until their life is threatened, until they taste that fresh air beyond the end of the tunnel. Just at this moment, I wonder how the driver of that tanker is taking all of this, and suddenly it all rushes in. The noise the lights, all become real and just as I feel myself being pried from the wreckage, blackness and the dark void.
-taken from the USDMV web site
I stare into the blackness above me. The way the rain streaks out of the sky to hit my face reminds me of that screensaver that's supposed to look like you are flying through space. I feel each droplet hit my skin, mixing with the warmth of the blood from the gash I barely feel. I always wondered what it would be like to come so close to death that you could see it, a bright white light at the end of the tunnel, leading into infinite nothingness. I feel the pavement beneath the back of my head; it's not so uncomfortable. There should be a lot of noise, the fire engine come to save my burning skeleton of a car, the ambulance to try and keep me from reaching that white light or the dozens of rubberneckers, so desperate to catch a glimpse of someone else's pain and misery. But I can't hear any of that, only the sound of the rain hitting my skin; everything else has becomes white noise, lost in the wash. A sort of background montage to my ballet of injury and destruction. Your body's natural reaction is to bring you away from the pain, to make you numb while it tries to heal. Most people at this point feel like they want to be back in their beds, the dark warmth of unconsciousness. I live for moments like this, its only at the point of death do you know that you are truly alive. What's that saying? You don't know what you have until its gone, how true. No one can truly know they are alive until their life is threatened, until they taste that fresh air beyond the end of the tunnel. Just at this moment, I wonder how the driver of that tanker is taking all of this, and suddenly it all rushes in. The noise the lights, all become real and just as I feel myself being pried from the wreckage, blackness and the dark void.