I said it before, and I'll say it again: God hates me. If you needed more proof, here it is.
I was driving through eastern Georgia one night with a load of ice cream when I hit a car. I wasn't sleepy, wasn't drunk, wasn't distracted or nothing. I was minding my own business, when suddenly I saw a car appear ahead of me in my headlights. They were just stopped on the freeway like it was a parking lot or something. I tried to stop but there was no way. Before I could decrease my speed halfway, slammed into the back of their car and sent if flying off the road.
The paramedics came and told me the person inside had been dead already, apparently having died of a heart attack but not before they had the notion of bringing their car to a stop. At least I don't have to say I've killed two people in my lifetime.