Non-classifiable
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The red 4x4 spun sideways as the driver slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel. The truck skidded toward Dakota's truck. I couldn't see the driver because the passenger side was sliding toward us. I could see the passenger though. He wore a mask over his face. And he was pointing a rifle at us through the open window.
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Big Frank tapped on my driver's side window with the tire iron. It was a gentle tap, but it sounded like thunder. I shook my head. He lifted his hand. Swung the tire iron down. I barely managed to shift out of the way as it crashed through the window. Pieces of glass sprayed my leather hockey coat and my head.
