March 4th, 2025. 7:42 AM. Interstate 35. Austin, Texas.
I was doing 68 miles per hour in the middle lane when I decided to merge right.
I signaled. Checked my mirror. Started to turn my head to check the blind spot.
My neck didn't move.
Not stiffness. Not "I need to stretch." A full, complete lock like a steel cable pulled tight from my skull to my right shoulder. White-hot. Instant.
I merged anyway. I had no choice.
The horn was so loud it felt like it was inside the car. The truck was right there. I yanked the wheel back. My coffee hit the dashboard. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.
I pulled onto the shoulder, hands shaking, and sat there for four minutes before I could breathe normally.
I had almost caused a fatal accident. Because I couldn't turn my head.
That morning, sitting on the side of I-35 with my hazards on, I made a decision: I was going to fix this. No matter what it took.