11:32 p.m. / Driving 70 mph Southbound On Hwy 99 We’d left the restaurant, and our friends, behind. It was just the
two of us now. My girlfriend, tired from the evening’s events, was
dozing in the passenger seat. Not me. I was wide-awake—eyes glued
to the road in front, waving my finger in the air like a baton as I
quietly conducted the melodies of Tchaikovsky.
Still in a state of euphoria from the night’s events, sleep was the
furthest thing from my mind. Rocketing down the freeway at 70 miles
per hour in my brand new white Ford Mustang, I was only two hours
removed from giving the best speech of my life. I had received my
first standing ovation, and I was elated. In fact, I desperately wanted
to shout out my feelings of gratitude to anyone that would listen, but
my girlfriend was asleep, so she was no use. I considered calling
Mom and Dad, but it was late; they might already be in bed.
Should’ve called. But I simply had no way of knowing that moment
would be my last opportunity to speak to my parents—or anyone—for
quite some time.
