The world dimmed.
My head went light.
I slumped into the steering wheel, swerved into the other lane, tires dipping over the shoulder.
My vision sharpened.
I swung back into the road.
It ended.
Taillights ahead.
I stomped the brake, tires screeching.
In the immediate distance five cars waited in the boarding lane at one of the docks. As I steered the Impala to the back of the line, a crewman started waving vehicles onto a ferry vessel called the Kinnakeet.
First to board was a dilapidated old pickup truck, its puttering engine expelling gouts of smoke into the stonegray dawn.