In bed, I open the news app on my cellphone. I tap 2 News KTVN.
“The Nevada Highway Patrol says crews responded to a head on crash on Pyramid Highway at Los Altos Parkway on Friday afternoon. Officials said there were substantial injuries.”
The third in as many months.
My mind slips into a memory. A bluegrass/gospel song by Dorsey Dixon, written in 1937. The title escapes me.
“Who did you say it was brother?
Who was it fell by the way?
When whiskey and blood run together
Did you hear anyone pray?
I didn’t hear nobody pray, dear brother
I didn’t hear nobody pray
I heard the crash on the highway
But, I didn’t hear nobody pray.”
Not booze, but the specter of texting.
Morning time, I’m on Pyramid, nearing Los Altos.
A small car pulls into the northbound path of a fast-moving semi-truck. The semi’s driver brakes hard, crossing over into the ‘suicide lane’ towards me. Best as I can, I hug the broken white line to the right, unable to move over any further because of the two vehicle’s holding their places in the far lane. The semi clips the left side of my smaller truck.
I jump awake at the sound of the ensuing crash.