After partying all night my friend and I departed Seattle on a road trip down Hiway 99 to Sacramento.

With my friend asleep in the back seat and me asleep in the front seat, not hearing warning-horns behind me, I crossed the oncoming lanes just North of Red Bluff, drove down a steep embankment, steep enough to tip me forward in the seat and press the gas pedal to a speed necessary to jump the ditch at the bottom.

The landing woke me up to see a large Oak tree in front of me. I turned the wheel as far as I could and slid sideways into the tree, bending the door in across my lap. My elbow, twisted to be in front of my eye, saved it from being torn out by a strip of glass from the windshield that ripped through said elbow and dug deep into my forehead.

My friend, unhurt, pleaded to the now scrambling-down-the-hill, concerned crowd of horn-honkers to get us out of the car.

Lying on my back watching a steady spurt of blood, I welcomed the sound of a siren announcing the arrival of our ride into town and its hospital.

Next day the friends from Sacramento came up and took us back with them. No insurance, I sold the wreck for $200 dollars. Her mother had said: "Her father and I have paid car insurance for twenty-five years and never had a claim, I'd save my money if I were you."

Needless to say, the minute my eyes droop on a road trip, I pull over and nap, not to mention no more all night parties unless bed is my immediate destination.