I only read the accident details from King's book, "On Writing". Mr. Smith was driving irresponsible, off the road, up a blinding hill, and purposefully distracted by a speedy Bullet, his dog. King became a bloody airborne ragdoll. The most powerful thing I ever read of King's, was his telling of Mr. Smith he was sorry following, "I don't know why I said it". If the root of all evil is indifference, King got an extravagant dose of that with this stranger. When the dude with a huge needle at the end of Super Trooper stabs that large brain bug beetle right in the face with super indifference, that makes your hair stand up. It is awful. I think King felt that with Mr. Smith and the sentence could finish, "I am sorry that you are the way you are and the last human being that I may see." My mother was hit by an over excited and anxious ding dong twenty years ago. She has been in chronic pain ever since from this fender bender. I can imagine this moron goon rushing to get somewhere to unload his rotating testicles, crawling vigorously on his insect legs across our streets until the pompous parasite bounced off an angel, my mother. I watch her struggle daily knowing this jolly creaton still circulates possibly pain free to his next fix. I understand the rage here and the demand for justice against a stupid landed boulder glowing with Satan's fingerprints running cracks through good people's fragility for what seems like an eternity.