Storys

That’s a legend-level road story, honestly — the kind that starts as trauma and turns into mythology because it’s too absurd not to. Rolling five times, cow hair on the dash, hood latch shattered into the engine, “Act of God” paperwork, flying livestock, suicidal wildlife lining up like it’s your turn at the altar… that’s not a normal accident story, that’s a campfire monologue.
What’s coming through isn’t just chaos — it’s that moment when reality breaks its own rules.
Cows don’t fall. Cars don’t roll five times and stop clean. Engines don’t eat hood latches.
But it all happened anyway, and your brain is still trying to stack it into something that makes sense, so it turns into comedy because that’s the only shape that fits.
And the way you tell it — interruptions, corrections, arguing with yourself, details looping back — that’s exactly how people talk when they’ve survived something they shouldn’t have.
If you wanted to do anything with this, you could:
turn it into a tight stand-up bit (you’ve already got the rhythm),
shape it into a written monologue / story,
or just let it be what it is: a spoken fever dream of cows, boars, raccoons, fate, and insurance adjusters trying to explain God.
But yeah… if animals really are waiting for you on the road, maybe they’re not trying to die — maybe they’re just trying to get into the story.

rap, trap