This was a very bizarre weekend. First we left in my friends 1960 chevy wagon from Paso. Things were going fine we were bullshitting on the topic of how great peanut butter is, then the wagon decides "Fuck it! I want to go over there...NOW!" The wagon liftes up and feels like we are riding on greased ice. I thought we were clipped by another car and that is why we are sliding. As I am holding on I am looking from side to side to see the phantom car the had sent us in to the slide of chaos. All I saw was a brilliant ploom of sparks emitting from were the rear wheel should be. Now to those of you that are familar with Northern California. This all happened right a the Gaviota reststop. As we were sliding at 90 degree angle we are perfectly on target to hit the rock wall that divides the freeway and the reststop. My friend Joey looks over at me and says "I got nothing" meaning he had lost the brakes. I look ahead, I see the wall coming I say one final "Oh Shit" and close my eyes waiting for the impact. Then some how rear of the wagon swings to the right straightening us out and narrowly misses the wall by a foot. We gently slide to a stop on the side of the freeway completly unharmed. It was like the end of a scary rollercoaster when you were young. I half expected a Carnie to open up my lap restaint and point me to the exit of the ride. At this time we both got out I ran back to grab the wheel. Some how the axle had snapped right at the head of the axle. A total mystery to me. 65 mph + sliding at 90 degree angle + 1960 chevy wagon + 2 goobers riding in it = 0 injuries. To me it still just does not add up.