We were on the highway heading to Portland. At one point, we passed a multi-vehicle collision that had just happened on the northbound lanes. Emergency vehicles were on the way. No one appeared to be dead. Behind the smashed cars, a jam began to form. Beyond it, we saw cars approaching, slowing, stopping, and becoming a part of the growing jam. Further down the road, we saw cars whose drivers and passengers had no idea that they were going to spend a good part of the cloudy day stuck on the highway. There was no way to get out of this jam once you were in it.

After two or so miles, we saw an exit. It was the last opportunity to escape the long wait ahead. But clueless car after clueless car zipped by and missed it. People were doing their normal thing—dealing with a broken heart, remembering a bill that had not been paid, listening to a golden oldie on the radio. As the last exit receded, it occurred to me that we were coming from the future of those on the northbound lanes. We knew exactly where and how all of their dreaming, worrying, remembering, and easy listening would end. The accident and jam behind us had transformed our car into a strange time machine. We were at once heading into the unknown future on the lanes facing us and arriving from the known future of those on the opposite lanes. Eventually, alerts would appear on smartphones and begin closing this small window of time travel.