This was the truck I had always wanted; it had a V-8, a dual exhaust system, a 5-speed transmission, a fiberglass topper, relatively low mileage, and it was a late model Dakota, my favorite pick-up.  Add to all that a selling price thousands under book, and I was set.

I flew to Tampa, Florida (I live in Flint, Michigan) to pick the truck up, and while on the way home, we were struck from behind by a little Honda Accord, traveling at an estimated 110 mph on northbound I-75, as we were leaving the Atlanta, Georgia area.  The impact sent the truck, my girlfriend and I spinning, and we finally came to rest in the soft, muddy median.  The Honda, of course, lost control, crossed the median completely, clipped another pick-up from the oncoming flow of traffic, flipped a few times, and finally stopped in the center lanes of southbound I-75.  The driver and passenger of the car were thrown clear from the wreckage, but they were literally torn to pieces on the way out.  They did not survive.

My Dakota, which I had owned for all of seven hours, was considered a total loss by the driver-at-fault's insurance company, and I received a check upwards of $4000 more than what I paid for the truck in the first place.  So, some good still came from such a bad situation.  That, and of course the fact that my girlfriend and I were not injured in the slightest during the crash.

The odds of me being the one hit, out of the thousands of other vehicles in that rush-hour traffic that day, will never cease to amaze me.