My whole life I wanted a car.
I saved every penny I could find to buy a car. When I turned 16, I got my car!
I treated this thing so well - premium gas, wash and wax every weekend. I'd never speed or dare run a red light. I couldn't dream of getting a ticket or having a stone scratch the side.
Well, a couple of my buddies and I were out one night.
We went to this party in the middle of nowhere. It was pretty lame so we left early and went driving around some back roads with the radio blaring. We were whooping around and I was showing my buddies how well this puppy could corner when, going about 60, I must have hit a patch of ice.
I spun out and hit a tree.
I don't remember much, but I remember waking up to find the car being torn apart. My beautiful car...and none of my friends were around.
I was being taken to the hospital, getting put into the ambulance and I looked over and saw this black bag on the ground with a bunch of cops....my friend Jim's face pointing out.
Jim is dead.
My best friend in the world is dead. Like that. Out of nowhere. Just from going a bit too fast on the road and an icy patch.
Now I live with that everyday. Now Jim, my friend Jim, he doesn't live at all.