It's not often I think I'm going to die.
I always thought I'd be old in bed with loved ones as I peacefully left.
I'm completely pulling you leg.
I knew this was my fate.
Death in my father's car.
Reasoning? Trying to beat the storm.
My dad speeding on the highway, changing lanes like he's in Fast and Furious's 50th movie.
My hand clutches on the seatbelt as my life flashes before my eyes.
As the clouds get darker and darker, and the emergency sirens become louder and louder in my memory.
The bam.
It happens all at once: the rain slamming down, my parents' shout of surprise, my dad slamming the brakes.
My soul leaves my body.
This is my place of death.
My father's car.
Reasoning? Trying to beat the storm.