How's my driving?

If it wasn’t for my inability to drive, I wouldn’t have this near death tale to retell.
I’ll admit it. I’m not the best driver. I’m one of those people that would rather sit in the passenger seat, look out the window and let my mind wander.
On Friday I was travelling to Saskatoon despite weather warnings of poor visibility, gusting winds and slippery roads.
I wasn’t the only one. The roads were littered with slow moving vehicles. Automobiles were tossed in the ditch every ten kilometres, and their was one fatality that evening on the same stretch of road I was taking to reach the big city of Saskatoon population just over 200,000.
My girlfriend and I were getting out of North Battleford for a night.
The trip was a little hectic. I was sliding everywhere and my speedometer didn’t read anything over 80 km/h (50 miles/hour for any American readers).
Ten kilometres out of the city, and I finally found a nice SUV to tail. We were going nice and smooth, when all of the sudden his brake lights flash and he starts slowing down.
I tap my breaks a little to reduce my speed. It doesn’t do much and I’m getting closer and closer to the SUV.
My hands are getting clammy and my knuckles are turning white. I clench my teeth and hope for the best.
I think about changing lanes and look to my side. There’s a semi with a trailer unit zipping past. For whatever reason, he was crossing the dotted line and squashing me over to the side of the road.
Damn truck drivers have to quit drinker on the job.
I’m within a metre of the SUV, when the semi finally gets back in his lane and passes me.
I quickly manage to swerve into the available passing lane, and I’m still alive and now at work.
Yeah.