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Chapter 1: My “Burning Bush” Experience

My junior year of high school was off to a great start. By the third day, I had finally memorized my class schedule, my locker combination, and most of my pep-squad routines. I can still remember getting ready the morning of August 29, 1984, slipping on my new jeans and jelly sandals, grabbing my books and pompoms, and kissing my mom good-bye. It was a ten-mile drive to school from our house in the country. As I got into my little brown Plymouth Champ, I grabbed my seat belt, realizing, I never remember to wear this thing, but I may as well put it on now that I’m thinking about it. I drove down our oil-topped road and onto the highway that would take me to the interstate. However, I never made it to the interstate that particular morning.

As I came over a hill, I remembered that I still needed to put lipstick on. I adjusted my rearview mirror for a quick application. As my eyes returned to the

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