I took this 24′ truck (towing my Durango) at 30 mph down 20 solid miles of 6 degree decline to the Central Valley in the dark, while it rained, in fog with a visibility of maybe 70 feet, tapping the brakes so they don’t catch fire while the truck tried to accelerate to it’s demise down the constant and unpredictable curves of the road. All while also hoping my Durango didn’t flip out sideways and jackknife, with smeared windows from crappy wipers that glared from oncoming traffic.
That was 7 hours ago, and my hands are still shaking. I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing somewhere in the first half hour of that mad descent, and my knuckles/elbows/back locked solid in panic. I couldn’t even speak properly afterwards because my jaw was clenched so tightly in sheer terror.
I have yet to obtain proof that I didn’t actually die in the process and that this is some afterlife apartment in purgatory I just moved into.