'Twas a Friday afternoon and I was ready to get out of school, when my friend asked me to meet her at a tattoo parlor an hour away from home. The second I got out of school, I got on the road on my way to the tattoo shop, with my dearly, DEARLY beloved first car, a gold 1998 Buick Regal 3.8 named Evelynn. Man, I knew I was going to be a Buick man for life, for what other car would have such supple suspension and gracious handling and ride comfort? That's aside the point. I was anxious to meet my friend at our destination, but I didn't know what side of the street the shop was or which stretch of road it was on. Well, traffic backed up on the road so I hooked around and took a detour which would take me directly to the road I was supposed to be on. I'd made it to the intersection and I felt my brakes vibrate and/or quiver slightly, but the pavement was bumpy so I didn't think much of it.

I'd made my left turn that I was supposed to make and reached a mild yet comfortable 38 MPH (the limit was 40, I drive slow when I don't know where I'm at, quit judging me...). I'd glanced down swiftly to make sure of my speed, but in the split second that it took for me to check my speed, a red Jeep Wrangler in front of me had slammed her brakes as someone had cut her off.

I had about 35 or 40 feet ahead of me, so I slammed my brakes to protect my golden angel, a vessel of beauty and hum of a 3800 V6, as well as attempted to steer left into the turning lane. With the brake pedal to the floor, the nose of my dear Evelynn had dived downward, the ABS pulsating beneath me. But then a terrible thing happened...MY BRAKES CUT OUT!!! I tried my emergency brake, forgetting that it had snapped from parking on a steep incline.

It all happened in slow motion, rather than how everyone else says "it all happened so fast." I rear-ended said Jeep while going 30-32 MPH. I remember seeing the airbag thrust itself out of the wheel, my backpack full of textbooks slamming the back of my seat after flying off the rear seat, my soda splashing all over the dashboard. I hit the airbag and blacked out. I was out for about 45 seconds, then woke up slumped over to my right. The car was filled with smoke that reeked of burnt wires. Nothing felt real. "This couldn't be happening. Oh no, my dad's gonna kill me" all described the situation. I was sure I was dreaming, so I touched the airbag for any sign of warmth to tell me this living hell was real. My ears were ringing as I had to kick, yes, KICK the door open. I analyzed the damage and noticed my car was too far gone, having frame damage, etc., however the Jeep ended up with no damage aside from a scuffed bumper, along with a small bumper crack, and a tiny ding in the muffler (she was able to drive away). She had whiplash, and I had airbag burns on my hands and face, and a seatbelt cut on my chest. Now I have back pain and the occasional chest pain (I'll pass on the doctor).

TL;DR

My brakes failed, I rear-ended a Jeep while I was going 32, I have back pain, and now I can't listen to bada$$ Led Zeppelin when I drive....