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I'm pulling onto a freeway onramp. Ahead of me a double-axle pickup truck (one of those 10-wheel jobs) is accelerating to freeway speed. I pull out my phone and mash lurkette's speed-dial button until it starts dialing. I look up to see my pickup truck friend basically stopped in the onramp traffic lane, five yards in front of me. At this point, I'm doing probably 40, with my foot still on the gas. For a fraction of a second, I'm thinking statistics. In my modern, airbag-equipped car, in a 40-mph collision with a much larger vehicle, odds are I'll survive with very, very serious injuries. I wrench the wheel to the left, my car screams and lurches. My front right corner misses his bumper by what feels like inches. When lurkette answers the phone I've nearly got my heartbeat and breathing under control....
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