Epilogue: Some things just can't heal
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNxRRSuYRo-sE8t0oR2q1AxpffDM-okaP_52mJjoYz55mreSLRN43FV2zsj72AQYrfx8KDbeo3-Gu1sU3-OO7JhTBmw-YV_CkpRDMCJVEx3e1ujMhQhNc84ld6PQDA924BiGKFGmqOtsGjWqJ8CCLI0JyllzZe2NhoqBV0h6-4c_nICPPLb7_vSf9Tzvz/w650-h540/maxboom.jpg)
Back in April of 2014, it was cathartic for me to write about my ill-fated cross-country motorcycle trip, the accident that ended the trip one day in, and my physical and emotional recovery . But all these years later, there is a tragic and final chapter worth documenting. When I flew home a week after the accident, it was hard not to perseverate about the crash. How exactly did it happen? Why was it me who woke up and got hit that morning? What if I had left an hour later? A minute later? Seconds? Early on, I did some sleuthing and found that the person driving the truck was a man named Brian. (For those who don't remember or want to go back to understand what happened, you can read about it here .) I had tracked him down by the large web address splashed across the rear windshield of his truck - maxboom.com , a training business for construction riggers and crane operators that Brian had apparently run for many years. Screenshot of now-defunct maxboom.com. I believe that