William Rhinehart

My Brush with Eternity William Rhinehart

I was feeling so happy that sunny fall day in the 1990s as I drove on a highway in the southeastern United States. It was late on a Thursday afternoon. I had arranged to take Friday off from my job so that I could go to a college football game on Saturday with my two sons. In just seconds a disastrous series of events occurred. I slammed on the brakes, but the brakes locked and the cruise control failed to disengage. I skidded off the road, knocking down a highway sign and crashing into the concrete culvert at the intersection of the crossroad. Then suddenly, unable to breathe any longer, I died.