The summer of 1982 was going to be the best summer of my life. My best friends Joey, Chris, Mike and I had shared numerous experiences that summer that made us inseparable. The four musketeers, as we were known, went everywhere together; it was rare to see one of us without the other three. But unfortunately, fate stepped into our lives one sultry August evening.

Joey, the party animal, hinted to us about a back to school party at a friend's house. Everyone in my beat up Grand Am cheered with excitement. We were on our way to the biggest party of the summer before school started. No one thought about how far it was to Susan's, or how desolate the roads could be at night. We were going to be big bad seniors that year. We assumed that nothing could happen to us - we already knew all there was to know about life, or so we thought.

By 8:00 p.m., everyone had purchased their beverages and clambered into my car to head for the party site. We had no forewarning of the troubles that lay ahead on the dark road looming ahead of us.

The four musketeers barreled out of town, and off the well-traveled highways, just to turn onto the freshly graded county roads. I knew the roads to the house, so I felt confident I could raise my speed. That party was just too good to miss. I was sure we could make our usual grand entrance to the party with no problems.

Nearly everyone in my speeding bulled was bringing their mixed drinks to their lips with such ease, if only they would have know how wrong that was. I was beginning to feel tempted by the evil drinks drank; so I pushed the stubborn accelerator the last fraction of an inch.

As I turned the first corner of our country expedition, I discovered a fresh virgin layer of gravel had been poured onto the surface. The Grand-Am began to fish-tail uncontrollably across the entire width of the road. We were headed straight for the biggest culvert I had seen in my life! Everyone was screaming.

I quickly pulled my lead food off the accelerator. My speed dropped below 65 mph; and we slowly came out of the horrendous skid unharmed. Alcohol was spilled all over my expensive leather upholstery in the back seat of my car. My friends were also covered in their delectable drinks.

"Good driving, Bethany. We could've been KILLED!!" Mike screamed from the passenger seat.

"Hey, lay off her, " replied Chris, "We made it through OK, didn't we? Is anybody hurt? No."

I was so scared that my lazy brain could barely make my heavy chest take in the sweet oxygen around me. We slowed the car down and took the next three gradual curves with no problems, no fish-tails, skids, or spins on this god-forsaken fresh gravel. I quickly began to relax. Then I realized I could talk again.

"Hey, guys, I'm sorry; it was fresh gravel. I couldn't help it." I spat out between well-deserved stress filled tears.

All I could hear for a response was Joey complaining about a pair of soaked blue jeans and something about smelling like his Dad.

Soon Chris pulled out a bottle of whiskey from her purse. While passing it around she sighed, "Everyone might as well fill'er up."

Two miles from Susan's house, the party site, our lives took a turn at the same time my car did. As we rounded the last corner of our adventurous journey, we started down the last stretch of soft gravel before we turned into the driveway of the homestead. I had no idea that this curve would be the last curve of my friend's life lines. Their very existence hung on every move of my padded steering wheel. Suddenly, my high beam headlights caught the glimmer of an object in the middle of the road. I swerved to miss the creature looming ahead of us, but it was impossible. The huge heifer sauntered in front on my oncoming car. The car struck the cow and ricocheted off the enormous farmland beast, rolled and crashed into a tall pine tree that could easily have been over 200 years old.