A Dashing Master in the City

Night, a quiet, inky night.

A car sped down the highway. A man in his thirties sat behind the wheel, his face tense with anxiety. In the back seat, a boy of about ten, still drowsy, leaned against a woman who looked just as sleepy. It seemed the family of three was hurrying somewhere in a panic.

There were few cars on the road in the darkness. After driving for a while, the car quickly entered a tunnel, with the occasional vehicle roaring past nearby. Suddenly, a blinding light appeared ahead. The man at the wheel was dazzled and slammed on the brakes. A violent crash rang out with a bang. He was thrown hard against the steering wheel, a large gash opening on his forehead as blood streamed from it. The woman and child were jolted into the front seats by the tremendous impact, their bodies cut in many places by tiny shards of glass from the shattered car windows. They lay sprawled inside the car, barely conscious.

The man shook his head vigorously, trying to clear it. He looked up at the large truck that had collided head-on with his car. His first thought was that he had been in a car accident.