The air bags deployed. One second they weren't there, the next PHOWOMP, the bags had exploded out of the front and side of the Prius, blowing my head back with a jarring snap of my neck.

I came to with my ears ringing, and three very cute paramedics crouching beside me. "Hello, boys," I slurred. My arm burned like a son-of-a-bitch, covered in the world's worst case of rug burn. Wrong day to wear short sleeves.

They held up the same three fingers in sync. "How many fingers ...