I walked through the kitchen door into the living room cautiously. Centered in this massive room, perfectly frozen in its last moment of explosive violence, were the twisted remains of my roadster. Two bodies, un-harnessed at the time of impact, were flung far from the car's demise, speaking to both the speed and severity of the accident. The first body that was thrown into the treetops, was a woman I recognized vaguely, but was unable to call fully to memory. The second body that was twisted in a comically grim contortionist's pose was clearly mine.