The Incident

It was a terrifying experience to say the least.

And a good part of that was the suddenness of

the event. I was driving effortlessly at a high

rate of speed on the Interstate crossing Kansas

from Denver to Kansas City.

There was what appeared to be a slight dusty

fog bank up ahead, something one would ex-

pect to zip through in a flash at 75-miles per

hour. But, oh no. Once Into the miasma there

was no stopping, no turning back.

There could be another vehicle stopped just

ahead of me, and a semi bearing down on me

from behind. Visibility was down to a matter of

inches, and at that speed, there was no time for

any favorable reaction.

What to do, what in hell to do? That was the

only thing on my mind as I let up on the gas

and moved ever so cautiously forward expec-

ting the horrid and fatal sound of metal thun-

derously colliding with metal.

Had this been Mt. Everest instead of Kansas and

I was descending after a victorious climb to the

summit, had an intense storm arisen suddenly,

I would have surely disappeared into a wan, blus-

tery blanket of white, never to be heard from again.

But I soon realized that one may as easily be lost

in the blinding dust storms of Kansas. Here, at

least, lies a fair chance of survivors sooner or later

discovering my gritty and gruesome remains.

What the hell happened, you may be asking?

Well, by the favorably prevailing winds of fate

at the time, I am here today to write about the

harrowing incident. And yes, thank goodness I

did have a clean change of underwear with me

in the car.

Chris Hanch  9-14-15