Not Dead, but Almost

Confessions Abounding

I'm not dead. Almost though. Funny story that.

We took highway 155 to Lake Isabella. It's the scenic route. And a 13 degree grade on the downward side. First our brakes burned up on the trailer, then on the suburban hauling it, then the parking brake. And we were hurtling around hairpin curves in both lanes gaining speed.

The five of us in the sub checked our buckles and grabbed on. Under my breath, I began the confession from the Book of Common Prayer. Jonathan asked forgiveness for "that last corona." And then it was quiet. I was amazed, even then, that we weren't panicking. At all.

We don't know what stopped us. But we stopped. Somehow.

It was very sobering.