How My Life Has Been Blessed Since the Accident
July – August 2019 • Vol 3, No 105
The rain was coming down lightly as the sun was setting on a beautiful spring evening. I was driving from Livingston to Bozeman, crossing into the shadow of the mountains as I reached the pass separating the Gallatin and Bridger mountain ranges. The temperature was 45F. The danger of snow and blizzards was only a distant concern. The date was March 25, 2016.
As I drove along, I passed a car. Then another. And another. Something about this struck me as odd. I am a fairly conservative driver. Usually the other cars are passing me! I glanced down at my speedometer. Sixty miles an hour. Exactly the speed limit. The road curved gently back and forth between the mountains. Why was everyone driving so slowly?
I felt an increasing sense of fear and dread. Something was wrong. Maybe there was an accident ahead, or I had missed a sign about road construction. Maybe there were elk or deer on the road that everyone else knew about except me. Whatever was happening, I’d better slow down, too. Now!
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