I was hit from behind by a guy going 120 m.p.h. It knocked me into the backseat and nearly ripped my head off. But that wasn't even the worst of it.
I sat there, numb and afraid. I couldn't feel my arms or legs. And my mind raced with horrible thoughts of being paralyzed for life.
Then I saw him.
His car was just a few feet away from mine, and I knew that he was the one who hit me. I couldn't move my head. It felt like it was torn off my shoulders.
I had to strain my eyes to get a closer look at him. He scrambled around inside his car, pushed open his door and crawled out. That's when he spoke. And the words stung me like nothing else ever could.
He said, "Boy, I need another beer."
The guy didn't even know he hit me. He didn't know that I'd never be able to play ball with my kids again. He didn't care. He was drunk.