Death by Golf

In a parking lot. Matt's car brought us here, meeting a few others, coming together to play the game of golf. Matt, myself, Kristen, and faceless others engage in this sport. It is much more like mini-golf than true golf, comforting to my inexperienced spirit. But before I get a chance to strike my first golfball, it's time to go. Not for them, but only for me. Lori had arrived, and was taking me home or somewhere hours off, for we were currently at some remote place, by a huge river or ocean of water. She had a new truck. New for us, old in age. As I left the golfing grounds to join her, Kristen couldn't help but loudly say, "We don't want him to play anyway, he sucks at this game." This did not not bother in the least. I climbed in the truck, and listened to Lori talk on and on. "...mom and dad move back to America..." I noticed she was driving a little bit crazy, very unusual for her, and the craziness was quickly progressing. Now drifting! from side to side, in the most unlikely and unpredictable fashions! I reached for my seatbelt, and fastened it tight, "You need to slow down." "No worries." Here we go, sliding from this side of the road to that, facing all the wrong directions, yet somehow working our way in the general intended direction. The road was elevated just above and along the shoreline, about 40 feet up give or take. Sliding too close to the edge...back wheels over the edge! "I got it...oh man!" The look on Lori's face finally turned to terror, finally matching the look on my own. A slide this way, a slide the other, and a slide back, and there the small pick-up went. Over the edge! Control has been lost. A perilous plunge is inevitable. The rear tires followed the front into the air. Boosh! A violent crash against the surface of the deep water. What now? I reach for my seatbelt a second time, to undo the action originally done. Lori quickly tries to reverse the vehicle, but this merely plunged the rear end far into the water. We are near facing the clouds in the sky. I attempt at opening my door, reach for the handle, it is difficult to push open. I fail. It's over. For the both of us.