Saturday night. I'm cruising along Valley Ranch Parkway towards the Casa de Rifleman, a mere two blocks from home. Valley Ranch Parkway is a..well...parkway, meaning that it's two lanes in each direction divided by a median. In the distance, coming around the gentle curve of the road, I see approaching headlights. It's a dark-colored pickup truck, apparently traveling at a high rate of speed. Damn drunks, I think to myself, going to kill someone. As I continue into the curve at 35-40 mph, I realize that something's not quite right. It's then that I realize that these drunks are not out just to kill anyone, but they're out to kill me. Shit. I try slowing and moving into the right hand lane to allow them to pass unfettered, but they finally see me and decide to move the same direction. I hit the accelerator and quick steer left, but I over-correct, hitting the median at a high rate of speed, launching the Riflemanmobile over the median and into the air. For a split second, I am certain that I will die. Time slows and I consider all that I haven't done with my life. Rafting in Colorado, getting married and having kids, DVDA and committing treason. The list could go on and on, as I haven't lived a very exciting life. I land in the opposite lanes--luckily it is late and there is little traffic. I look around. The oncoming death truck has continued its journey, seeking new victims. My car, sensing impending doom, has smartly shut off the fuel pump in a an effort to keep highly flammable gasoline from spraying about in the event of a drastic accident, so I start the car. Amazingly, I'm able to drive home, where I park the car and, unable to face the damage because of a racing heart, I stumble upstairs to my abode and collapse on my bed, slowly recovering from my adventure at the edge of life. Finally, I get enough courage to go out and investigate the damage. Broken wheel, damaged front bumper, possible suspension and transmission damage. Fuck. The gods always frown upon the insolent. And I am about as insolent as can be. I go back inside and zone out in the shower, letting the hot water wash away my trepidation and fear. Sleep that night didn't come quickly or easily, though I eventually fell into a fitful rest, hoping the light of day would never come. But, like it has for millenia, it did come. The Riflemanmobile didn't look any better in the light of day, but it didn't look much worse, either. I made a claim with my insurance company and they gave me a rental this morning. Tomorrow they come to take it away and tear it down, looking for damage. Let's hope that its life isn't over like mine nearly was.