I thought about quitting these posts. Fifteen is a sort-of solid number to end things on, and by now you all know that I got hit by a Chevy Suburban when I was 23, broke eight bones, and spent a bumpy five months recovering in my New Hampshire hometown. But this year feels like the closest I have been to this story since it all actually happened so oops, I can’t quit these posts, just like I can’t quit talking about this important time in my life. Also because there’s another big part to this story that I’ve barely talked about.