On June 19, 1999, Stephen King took a walk — and almost died.

The best-selling writer had gotten into a habit of taking long walks every day, strolling along Route 5 in Maine, "a two-lane blacktop highway that runs between Bethel and Fryeburg," as King described it. While King was walking on that particular June day, a blue van was approaching him, swerving wildly all over the road. Here's what happened next, in King's own words:

"Most of the sight lines along the mile-long stretch of Route 5 that I walk are good, but there is one place, a short steep hill, where a pedestrian heading north can see very little of what might be coming his way. I was three-quarters of the way up this hill when the van came over the crest. It wasn't on the road; it was on the shoulder. My shoulder. I had perhaps three-quarters of a second to register this.