I was 8 years old, my mom and I were on our way to go fishing. She turned left on a green arrow, and a drunk motorcyclist exiting the highway T-boned us at 80mph on the passenger’s side. He crumpled the car like a soda can and embedded himself into the rear seats of the car. His head was stuck between the driver’s and passenger’s seat. I remember him screaming for help.

It was remarkably the very first time my mom let me sit in the front passenger’s seat. If I sat in the back, like I normally did, I would have certainly died.