Driving home from her house, I pondered the night we shared—a night full of laughter and smiles with the girl I love. Perhaps I was too deep in thought. Maybe it was because I was exhausted and running late. Either way, I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
As I drove the familiar roads spanning the divide between her house and mine, I came around a corner to two glowing eyes. That’s when it happened. With only seconds to react, I slammed on the breaks. But I was too late.
Metal and flesh collided. I strained against my seat belt, fighting against the forces ripping me from my seat. Tires squealed against the road as my minivan halted. And just like that, there was silence.
I wasn’t going to make it home by curfew. My head spun. It was hard to think, but I made a mental check of my body. Other than my aching shoulder, I was unscathed.
I saw the check engine light glowing in a deep red on the dash. I noted the irony as I stepped out of the car. Even inside the car, I knew it would never be driven again.
I looked at my minivan with the front end smashed in, bleeding oil onto the cold pavement. I felt a mixture of dread and exhilaration. I hated that car.
But then I started to feel something else. I thought about the places it took me. All those memories. All gone. All smashed in with the front end of my car the moment I careened into the poor animal. I was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. I had lost a friend.
My attention was soon drawn to the cow that I had hit, laying lifeless in the road. All I could think was murderer. This was the animal that had killed my car. My freedom.
I heard sirens in the distance, gradually growing louder. At least I wouldn’t be alone.
Soon I was surrounded by police cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck. I figured it would be a good idea to call my mom and tell her I was going to be late.