I am especially happy to be alive today. When I was hit by a fire truck on the BQE, I was sure I was dying.

Let me tell you what it is like being hit by a fire truck in a small blue Honda hatchback: you feel something hit the side of the car, your car turns perpendicular to the highway, and the truck continues to drag you forward in this sideways position. All you can see through the driver's side window is the front grill of the firetruck. And it isn't stopping.

I stared through the window at the grill and felt some sense of surprise that I was going to die like this. I felt like I was sitting in a shark's mouth, about to be eaten.

Then the truck finally stopped. It pulled back. I was alive.

The heavy truck pounded my little Honda at more than 50 mph, tore a hole through my door on the driver's side, and I walked away without a scratch. I don't know how it's possible. What's more, the car actually runs, though I don't know if I will be getting into it any time soon.

Needless to say, my plans to move upstate today are on hold.

I would like to send a lot of love out tonight to my little Civic, who took me to Wyoming, Michigan, New York, New Hampshire, Canada, Colorado, Indiana, North Carolina, Virginia, Upstate, and to so many other wonderful places. And most of all, this car saved my life.

The rest of my love goes out to Dan Engber, who met me on the side of the highway, where I was still hysterical after my brush with death and the abuse that quickly followed from 8 firemen, 4 cops, and three tow-ers. That's 15 men, including the policeman who yelled at me and called me "little lady." Civil complaint to follow. But let's get back to Dan, who hugged me, stared at the hole in the door, told me I was lucky that my legs weren't mangled, reminded me that it doesn't matter if I don't move upstate today, witnessed the monstrous policeman, secretly took down the asshole's badge number, walked me home, reconstructed with pencil and paper how the accident happened, and made me a cup of tea, before returning to the quiet night at home he'd planned. Give this man a hug every time you see him.

If I called you from the side of the road and left a frantic message for you, I'm sorry. If I called you today, and told you I love you, I meant it. If I didn't call you yet, and you are reading this, I love you, and you should hit me up for something b/c I am very soft right now. But very sore, too.

Today, I love New York, because it's where my friends and sister live. And because Harry, the most fabulous mechanic, took a look at my car and believed my story instead of the fireman's fable. He said they never see little weeble-cars like mine.