I braved the Pennsylvania turnpike on a Friday night after work to make it back home to Cleveland from Washington, D.C.

It was October 30, 1987 and it was my first trip home since I had graduated the previous spring. Filled with anticipation of being reunited with my high school buddies and the exhilaration that we were all "adults" and on our own gave me a sense of false bravado.

I was one of the only members in my group with a new car (I had a real job) so it was decided that I would drive our group of misfits downtown looking for mischief that Saturday night. The night of Halloween.

The air was warm for a late October night in Cleveland, but it was also raining quite hard. We were all under drinking age at the time, but that didn't stop us from acquiring some marijuana with which to melt our minds with. With that decision, I turned the driving over to my best friend B (guilty parties will remain nameless). As I recall, there was Scott S. (since deceased - he killed himself the following fall), Sherri B. a straight laced gal home from college, and one other person whose name escapes me.

I was your classic paranoid stoned person. The one member in the group focused on all the bad things that could happen and this night being Halloween night, I was in full-on paranoia. Everyone else was partying and having a good time, but suddenly as I looked out the rain-soaked windows of my little red Nissan Sentra and before my eyes, all the street lights and carlights took on a hazy orange glow and I had a sinking feeling of doom.

I swallowed down my anxiety like a mouthful of medicine and tried to regain the moment. Someone retold a crazy memory from our not so distant high school years and laughter filled the car. As the laughter echoed in my brain I felt momentary lift from my fear. It was short lived.

Our carload of crazy kids was traveling down Rt. 90 into Cleveland. The rain was growing heavier and it was difficult to see out the back windows where I was trying mightily to remain cool. We were approaching a famous section of freeway in Cleveland called Dead Man's Curve - a 90 degree right hand turn that appears almost out of nowhere and has proudly claimed many lives.