I hit a semi-trailer on the freeway at 80 mph.

And I probably should be dead. But that’s only the start of the story.

Every sixth Thursday I finish teaching my four classes at one school, pack a huge amount of gear in my car, and drive six hours to Boise to teach another class of 50 kids the following morning.

It’s worth it, but it’s not easy. Teaching at three schools is wearing and requires more energy than I sometimes want to admit that I have. I get fatigued, worn down, dulled, though I often refuse to admit it.

January in Idaho is cold and bleak. The sun goes down early. Driving on the freeway in midafternoon is boring and there is nothing — at all — to see in west-central Idaho.

I was tooling north at a fairly sedate 81, just over the 80-mph line on the speedometer. Technically speeding — the speed limit is 80. Not even close to the fastest thing on the road.

But faster than all the semi-trailers.

It was late afternoon, just before 5pm. The sun was very low, and the I-84 trends west-by-south, putting that sun on the front left quarter of my car. My windshield was clean on the outside, but very slightly smeared on the inside, like nearly everyone’s, making the sun streak a bit and coat the windshield with an orange glow. I had the visor down. Light prescription sunglasses on. Occasionally a hand up to block the sun where it peeked through the sparse clouds over the western mountains.