Excerpt from novel: War In A Beautiful Country

Suddenly the car flew out of her hands.
Regina loved take-offs. While other passengers on the plane were white knuckling it and chewing gum, she absorbed into herself the pure joy of lifting off the earth. She also loved landing: the harsh, bumpy, practicality of it. But not this.
The car shot across two lanes of oncoming traffic, bounced off the concrete barrier which separated automobiles coming in the opposite direction, and careened back across the highway before coming to a stop against the opposite wall, totaling the car.
As she was flying through the air, she unexpectedly took on the passivity of snow and said to herself, "Ah, so this is when I die, and where.” She became extremely happy that she would die in New York City and that at her funeral they most likely would play the song, “She’s a Native New Yorker.”
She was amazed at how accepting she was, how she saw her own death as just some lackluster stupidity. It wasn’t that she didn’t care: she just didn’t care right then. She was more interested in the information than the consequences. This was probably a better way, she thought. Everyone is curious about when and how they die. If this really were a bomb instead of a slow motion car crash she wouldn’t have the gift of time to appreciate her own demise..
She didn't die.