[1] Last August 4, 2000, was a normal commute for Michael Eck. He'd allowed more than two hours for the afternoon drive from his Baltimore home to his job as a forklift operator at an East Petersburg, Pa., trucking company. A quiet family man, Eck worked nights, giving him time during the day to spend with his wife, Dawn, and two-year-old daughter, Christina.

[2] The 74-mile drive on Interstate 83 was one Eck had made every workday for 12 years. He knew rush-hour traffic near York, Pa., would be thick this Friday as people hit the road for the weekend. So far, though, his green Chevrolet Impala was moving smoothly along with the traffic heading north.

[3] Before taking the forklift job, Eck, 44, drove tractor-trailers cross-country, and he sympathized with the truckers around him. I-83 gave drivers, especially those behind wheels of lumbering 18-wheelers, little margin for error in case of an accident or emergency. Its left and right shoulders were small, making it difficult for stranded motorists to pull over safely. A low concrete barrier divided the narrow four-lane highway. Meanwhile, steep, rocky hillsides closed on the northbound side, while a bluff to a lake fell away sharply from the southbound lanes.

[4] At about 2:50 p.m., Eck was driving 65 m.p.h. in the left lane, north of Exit 3. In front of him was a blue Peterbilt 18-wheeler, followed by several cars. As they approached the base of a steep hill, Eck saw that the truck, with two earthmovers chained to its trailer, was too heavy to make the steep incline at highway speed.

[5] Yet the trucker wasn't shifting to the right lane so faster vehicles could move by on the left. Eck decided to pass the truck on the right to avoid being trapped behind slower traffic. He signaled, swung out, passed the truck, signaled again and returned to the left lane.

[6] Climbing the hill, Eck had to decelerate as he approached a slower car ahead. Suddenly he felt a tap at his rear bumper, the kind of contact one might make with another car while maneuvering into a tight parallel-parking space. Eck glanced up to see the Peterbilt's chrome grille filling his rearview mirror.

[7] It was a slight impact, but there might be damage. Eck and the trucker would have to exchange insurance information. This was the last thing he needed. If he was more than a half-hour late for work, he'd be docked a day's pay.

[8] Eck knew there was no room on the left shoulder. So, frustrated, he looked to the right, hoping traffic would let up and that he and the trucker could pull off. But the right lane was now clogged with cars.

[9]As the lane cleared, Eck waited for the Peterbilt to merge right. But the trucker wasn't trying to pull off. What was he doing? Suddenly Eck found out. Bang! With a sickening thud the two bumpers collided, the truck's steel against the Impala's plastic. Eck's mouth went dry with fear.