Walking away from a violent accident changed my life. Garrett’s speeding history suggests the lesson still hasn’t reached him

The taste of cold beer lingered on my lips as I cut through the quiet night, 105mph toward cigarettes and hot wings. Halfway to my destination, Beyoncé’s Irreplaceable looping through the speakers, my tires hugged the winding turns around the lake that separated my neighborhood from the city. I was young and careless, high on anticipation. No seat belt. Eyes squinting through the haze of cigarette smoke.

Somewhere between the thump of the 808s and the growl of the engine, I heard a voice.