Clocking in on Highway 118

Chapter 1: Highway 118

Chapter 1: Highway 118

During one night in October, a man's life will change forever. Dean feels the chill in the air, as he cruises on his Harley. He is riding on a lonely stretch of Highway 118. The torrential rain earlier this afternoon, and the deposits of motor oil, leaves the pavement slick. Dean is dressed in full gear, safeguarding him from any potential accident. He is wearing black from head to toe: a black leather bomber's jacket, black helmet with full face guard, black jeans with chaps and heavy, black riding boots.

However, these are the only precautions he takes for tonight's ride. This is his favorite stretch of highway. Dean has ridden the highway so often, he knows the route by heart. Every twist, turn, every rise and fall, of Highway 118. He also knows there aren't police out this late with radar guns at the ready. For the hell of it, he cranks down on the accelerator. His right hand responds with a quick flick of the wrist, any time he wants to feel some speed.

The man in black whoops and hollers with the thrill of acceleration. As his motorcycle goes far beyond what is written on the speed limit sign ahead of 40 M.P.H. The wind screams in his ear, telling him to slow down. Like any other authority figure, Dean defies the wind and pushes his motorcycle even harder. All it takes is one mistake to cause an accident. One car in the wrong lane. One patch of black ice. And his ride becomes an indecipherable wreck.

In Dean's case it's an opossum. The possum uses this route every night. He seeks out roadkill unlucky enough to be caught in the middle of the roadway. Just like his mother taught him as a young opossum. The biker is approaching a blind curve at high speeds. If he wants any chance in hanging on, he is going to have to throw his whole body into the turn. He drops a knee to the slick black asphalt.

Dean swerves in time to miss the possum, but the wild movement has thrown him from his bike. The Harley now lies scattered in an array of chrome pieces. The chrome scatters across Highway 118. They catch the light of the full moon and glimmer with the reflection. When the EMTs find Dean he is, to quote the first EMT who performs CPR, "still breathing, but unresponsive". Despite all of their efforts to revive Dean; the team of EMTs have failed. They load Dean into the ambulance and head for the hospital. Turning on his siren and taking the nearest exit off Highway 118; the ambulance driver makes it to the hospital in no time.

Dean now lies in a room at the general hospital. His grieving family and friends visit him daily. They leave flowers, pictures and sit at his bedside for hours. When Dean's mother visits she speaks of her undying love and support. Many of his friends and relatives read by his bedside. These eclectic bunch of bikers, drinking buddies and former flames all have the same hope. The hope for some miraculous neural connection to occur. The machines that surround Dean continue to beep, hiss, and contract in a steady rhythm.