A miracle

I know this has nothing to do with smoking, but my story made me think about life, and how I've been looking at it. I also happened to have a grinder with a shit tone of kief in my car.



I saw a new civic si with an exhaust while driving home from a hardy meal at Denny's, so I decided to pursue and race him. We pulled out in front of the pack of cars, and punched it. His car was ahead because he was already in front of me. I kept up with him through 110 on the street by my neighborhood. All of a sudden when I shifted the car lurched to the right (open diff). I lost control, hit the curb, tried to compensate for it.

I ended up flying over the opposing lane, then hitting the next curb, started to roll, hit a shit ton of stuff on my way through the air. When I finally was able to comprehend my existence once again, I saw that my entire car was smashed around me. Neither doors would open, there were people and sirens all around me. Old childhood friends saw me and stopped.

Somehow, by a work of God, or who knows what, I crawled out of my crumpled car, unscathed save for a few cuts from glass on my hands. The entire car was totaled. I never agreed with people who argued against street racing; today, I will argue that anyone and everyone should take it to the track. I'm lucky to be alive, let alone in jail; the officer who helped me told me that had he not pulled a few strings, I would have been on my way to jail right after that. My insurance hates us now, and I'm lucky I didn't have the rest of my life ruined. He also told me that had my car not have been so sturdy (LOVE YOU NISSAN), I would have likely been crushed inside of it.

So, to anyone who still wants to street race, take it from the guy who just threw thousands of dollar into the scrap yard: It's not worth it.

Spark one up for my baby! Rest in peace, White Raven :'(
Also, I have all that kief still.... soooo, time to mourn.