On Wednesday, if I hadn't been paying attention while crossing the street, I would have been run down by a car. There are three lanes of traffic and a lit crossing. The two outside lanes had stopped, but some guy in the middle lane, who was well behind the cars that had stopped, came down after I was already in the crosswalk and drove by me at full speed... didn't even touch the brakes.
I guess I should add that this was during daylight hours.
An ex and I were backpacking in Europe (oddly, we had dated years earlier and ran into each other basically randomly there... given the way it turned out, I really wish we hadn't, but...) and went from Germany to Poland on a night train.
Now most night trains in Europe (go Eurail!) have this nice thing where you can rent a couchette (a cot in a suite with 4-6 of them), sleep the night away being lulled by the rock-rock-rocking, and then awake in a new city/country. The porter who comes to check your ticket will take your passport at the same time, and handle all border crossings and such for you, then give it back to you in the morning. Gotta love it.
Well, the Berlin -> Krakow train porter didn't take our passports. Odd, we though, but forgot about it.
*WHAM WHAM WHAM*
It's 4am. We hear yelling, and someone is beating on our door. We're stopped.
*WHAM WHAM WHAM*
I get up and open the door.
Standing there are two young Polish Army jocks, AK-47s strapped on, looking really cross. Apparently, we'd reached the border.
They barge their way in, and start speaking in Polish. Oh good. Neither of us speak it. I finally get them to switch to German, and it's obvious they want our passports. We give them to them.
Now, my passport photo is one of the better ones I've ever taken. I was wearing my contacs. On the trip, I was wearing my glasses, so I put them on so I can see what the hell is going on.
The soldier with my passport reaches up and takes them off my face rather rudely, grabs my chin, and turns my head to the side, then back, peering at my face, then the photo and back again.
My ex is not touched, but by this time we're both a little tweaked.
They hand back the passports and my glasses, and bark something else at us. We look at each other and shrug. They repeat it, louder. Nope, sorry, still not getting it. They switch to German, and I realize they're asking us our purpose in Poland.
"Tourists."
They both look *HORRIFIED*, back out of the cabin, and *bring their rifles to bear*, yelling "TERRORISTS?!?"
Now it's *OUR* turn to back the hell up, hands *HIGH* in the air, yelling "NO! TOURISTS! AMERICAN TOURISTS!"
We all gibber for a moment or two, and all four of us are about to pop.
And then they both break into huge grins, and one says in almost flawless English "Welcome to Poland, have a nice stay!"
Fsckers.
We saw them on the platform the next morning, they smiled and waved, we smiled and flipped them off, they laughed, we went up and said "Okay, you guys *OWE* us... where's a good place to stay, and a place to eat?"
They were incredibly helpful, and apologized for pulling the prank, saying they get really bored pulling border duty. We tried to get up with them for a beer later, but they'd gone back to the border by then.
About a month ago some guy tried to kill me. I was walking at night, something I do often, and walked over a small footbridge that crosses a lake, and as I was coming towards the first street a car was driving slowly by, then it reversed direction, stopped, some guy got out and grabbed something metallic from the back seat, and started running towards me, I turned and ran as fast as I could, and fortunately I can run a mile in about 5 1/2 minutes, so I got away, but it was extremely scary, I know if I hadn't gotten away I would be dead today. My lungs hurt for the next three days from running so fast and breathing so hard.
Driving on a remote field path in Turkey. On the right side of the street, there was a slope (maybe 80 ft). Suddenly, the road became really slippery and we began to slip right. I got the car back under control a few inches before we would have slipped over the edge. I had two friends with me who looked rather pale (as me).
A girlfriend who lived about two miles away, typically walked home late at night after visiting me. It's a well lit pedestrian walk next to the main street and the area has (normally) a rather low criminality rate. One night a car drove by and the driver slowed down looking at her. Then he sped up and drove around a corner. She got a bad feeling but it was the only way to her home, so she went on. At the end of the pedestrian walk, the guy was waiting for her. She kicked him in his groin and ran for her life to her appartment. The next day she went to the police. They showed her photographs of suspects. When she found one who looked similar, the policeman said, if this really is the guy, she was lucky as he already killed someone. They never arrested someone, though.
Oh god, I almost forgot about breaking my jaw in Italy...
There was this *fabulous* wine in Cinqueterre (NW Med coast of Italy - no roads, train only, *unbelievable*) for about $2/bottle. It goes in NY for about $120.
So all 50 or so of us at the youth hostel (Mama Rossa's!) get a couple bottles each and proceeded to get trashed while watching the sun set over the Mediterranean, sitting on the basalt cliffs about 200' up.
I've had at *least* two bottles sitting there, and we're having a fabulous time. We're all teaching each other our national anthems, and trying to find something we can *all* sing. (We finally did - Hotel California - even those that didn't speak English knew it!) I get up to go pee, and... trip.
I'm on the edge of this massive cliff, and I trip. I grabbed a rock lip basically by accident just long enough to swing my momentum around and toss me *into* the cliff, where I hit the side of my head on the rock.
And snapped the corner of my jawbone off, where it makes that 90deg turn under your ear. Just a little bit, about 3/4" of an inch, or so. It wiiiiiiiiiiiiiggled.
If I hadn't caught that lip, I'd have been a very bloody mess smeared down the cliff.
I was in Salzburg, and visiting the fortress on the mountain overlooking the town. (Hohen Salzburg?) It of course has these massive stone walls, and they're a sheer drop a few hundred feet down, but about 4' high on the inside, and about 4-5' wide. I clamber up on one, stretch out with my backpack as a head support, eat my lunch, and read a book.
And then I wake up, about 3" from the cliff side, looking waaaaaaaay down into the valley. I'd fallen asleep and rolled.
Not exactly a close call, but just today I was crossing the street. In boston pedestrians barely look both ways, they also disregard pretty much all signals, they know they have the right of way, and they exploit it.
so I was crossing the street behind this other guy, and a car came in, not looking from our left, and then another from our right, both slammed on the breaks, and we went "whoa!"
the dude turns to me "dude! that guy wasn't even looking!" and then I responded "neither were we \ "
to that he realized "good point"
and it's true, bostonians are crazy walkers, it's ridiculous, and we all take it for granted.
I was in high school, and decided to go cross country skiing up Mission Creek canyon outside of Cashmere, WA, by myself. I've got my gear, I've got my '76 Jeep Cherokee, I'm set.
I get way up outta town, nearing the summit, and realize that the tire tracks I'd been following are no longer there... I'm breaking new snow miles from the nearest building. Oh goody. I decide to turn around, and at the next wide spot in the road (it's a narrow one lane dirt road, cliff going up one side, and going down the other, to the creekbed), I backup onto the flat... and bounce my rear left tire up over a huge rock that was buried in the snow.
Great, I'm stuck. I grab some moving blankets out of the back, and stuff them between the tire and rock for traction... no good, the metal studs just shred the things.
Lovely. Well, no problem, I have my skis, I can just ski down the road about 3 or 4 miles, and use the phone at a friend's house who lives up here to call some buddies with planks and shovels.
Strap on the skis, head on out.
I'm about a mile from the car, when I *swear* I hear something on top of the cliff above me.
I stop.
Silence.
I continue.
There it goes again, right above me.
I stop.
Silence.
Again this happens.
And again.
And again.
I finally snap my head up fast enough to see a flash of tawny beige.
Oh nice, I'm being tracked by a *cougar*, in the middle of nowhere.
Then I remember that in about another 1/4 mile, the cliff comes down towards the road, until it's about 8' off. I'm 6' + a smidge. 8' - 6' is about 2'. Yeah, I think a cougar can jump that. Awwwwwwww, crap. I start looking at the tips of my ski poles wondering exactly how sharp those tips *are*...
So I start out, keeping an ear out for this thing - and now it's not bothering to keep quiet so much.
I just start going a little bit faster, and then a bit more, and then a bit more... gradually building up speed until I'm at a pretty good sprint as I come up on the low spot. And it just keeps pace with me at every step. I'm gliding along, breathing hard, it's crashing through brush, not even pretending that it's worried that I hear it.
I come up on the low spot, arms and legs in sync, a *perfect* stride going, my ears straining to hear *exactly* where that frickin' cat is, my eyes firmly on the terrain in front of me, peering intently for any bumps or ruts that would trip me...
And from *just* behind me, *just* above me...
The son of a bitch *SCREAMS*.
I don't know if you've ever heard a cougar scream before. It is the most ungodly, core of your being fear inducing, jesus h christ on a flaming pogo stick of doom get me out of here NOW, unbelievable sound...
Every hair on the back of my neck went straight out, and suddenly I was moving about *twice* as fast as my 'good sprint'.
I stopped about 1/2 mile later, panting, and there was no sign of the thing.
Well... the closest call I've had was my brother was playing with a handgun my Dad had (just laying about btw... nobody said my old man was the brightest candle burning) and it went off. I actually felt the bullet brush my hair. I don't like guns anymore...
A funny one was I was on the second floor in my friend's apartment. We stepped outside for some air and so my friend could smoke a cigarette. Standing there chatting away we hear this groan and creak and the floor falls away from us. The deck pulled away from the wall and fell out. If it wasn't for the neighbor's deck we'd have hit the ground. I jumped into the house and pulled my friend in. But another girl was trapped against the far rail and afraid to move. The neighbor grabbed her from behind and pulled her onto his deck. I told them it was a sign to stop smoking.
That was when I noticed the five guys behind me, about 100 yds back.
Lovely.
So every time I rounded a corner where they couldn't see me, I sprinted for a while to try and add a little distance each time. Well, the distance wasn't getting any wider... they were doing the same thing, obviously. Every time I went out of sight, they were running to catch up without me noticing.
Now you know what a zebra feels like when being stalked by lions.
Kickaha, I really *don't* know how you are still alive. Spinning five times on a rain-slicked freeway alone used up a bunch of your nine lives. And the thing with the cougar is just incredible. Did you imagine the feel of his teeth biting into your flesh? I know *I* would have.
I was climbing a cliff behind a friend one time, but the problem was that he was 6'3", and the handholds and footholds that he found for himself eventually ran out for me. I got stuck in a spot about 80' up the face of the cliff, and I couldn't reach the next handholds (I'm only 5'4"). Then I looked down.....and froze. I can't even begin to tell you how strongly I felt that death was just a second away...just hovering there in the next brief and final passage of time.
I honestly don't remember how I got back down, because my knees became weak and started shaking. I think he must have eased back down beside and below me, and then told me where foot and handholds were. It was my first time doing that kind of climbing. NOT a good way to begin. I got stuck again a few years later - same exact scenario, but different guy, different location. That time when I froze, the rush of fear that flowed through me made me feel like I was going to float away.
Now I start to feel waves of dizziness when I look over the edge from a height. I *really* resent having this fear, because I never had it before - in fact, I had always really *loved* heights. So now I'll have to desensitize myself wrt that fear. I did learn to rappel after that, and loved it; so maybe all hope is not lost. I'm not going to let some stupid fear control what I want to do with my life.
yeah, those 5 days when murbot's wife was late scaried the heck out of me too....
g
as for close calls...once in the 60's 9 of us were traveling in an old milk truck with a great dane (ahhh hippy lifestyle)...well the semi-converted milk truck only had two seats up front...so 7 of us and the dog were in the back...though there was no real back, just the two seats up front and the rest of the truck was open space...i think i was about 6 years old...mostly adults, only one other kid and me...we were driving the canyon road up in the santa monica mountains...curving along when the brakes fail and we went over the side of the mountain...but we only went about 20 feet down when a heavy group of shrubs stopped the truck...now all nine of us were smashed up against the windshield, all clumped on top of each other (no seatbelts back then), with the dog on top of all of us...we all carefully climbed out of the truck and up the side of the hill to the road...when we looked down at the truck we saw that that clump of shrubs was the only thing that stopped us from going another 1000 feet almost straight down...and we looked all around and saw that no other place along the road had a thick clump of shrubs like that...if the brakes had failed almost any other time, all 9 of us and the dog would have hurled much much further and much much faster...thank god God loves stoned hippies and dogs...
When I was 18 years old, I was attending college for my first year. I was driving along the 710 freeway late at night coming home from a party. Usually I drive in the fast lane but for some reason I was in the third lane. All the sudden there is guy, who appears right in front of me. He was likely drunk and had gotten on the freeway going the wrong direct. He was in the fast lane (fourth lane) and passed me at what had to be 80 mph going the wrong way. The whole time from processing to passing had to be maybe three seconds. There would have been no way I could have avoided him and it would have been about a 140 mph head on collision.
Another close call...
I was mugged at knife point(at the throat) by two guys late at night. They forced me into my truck, drove me to the ATM, had me give them my PIN number and withdraw the maximum on my account.
Yet another....
Driving home on a Thanksgiving break in the rain. My truck hydroplaned and spun across four lanes of traffic. It was hit in the rear in the second lane and that had it going sideways into the fifth carpool lane. It hit the median and came to rest. A woman, driving a Honda Civic, drunk and without her seatbelt on, hit my truck (driver's side toward the front) at approximately 90 miles per hour. I had to be told this because the force of the hit bent the truck in half and made my head shatter the driver's side window, knocking me out.
The force of the hit basically bent the truck in half, so badly that it snapped the transmission in half. The only thing that kept me in the truck was my seatbelt and the screws of the holding the post the door closes on. The door was pulled away from the cab and the post was partially pulled away from the door frame.
I saved my mom's life. (She's 73) I hadn't called her on a Friday as is usual (Thursday she happened to call so I had it in my head she was fine). Saturday goes by, I'm busy with stuff. Sunday comes around and I get this thought that it's odd she hasn't called (we call about twice a week weekends). I called her and she picks up the phone and is rambling. I get this creepy feeling and try to get her to answer some questions. Finally after so much ragtime, I hung up and took a cab over. Once there she kind of let go and really went into a childlike state. I called for an ambulance and she went down further. By the time she was at the hospital she was staring at me zombie like slowly pantomiming smoking a cigarette and tapping the ashes in mid air.
Well she pulled through over about a weeks time. Doctors didn't know what it was. But she had technically died at one point. Thankfully she gave up smoking (although it wasn't the cause and she doesn't inhale "properly" anyway - she learned smoking incorrectly thank God).
What I think happened was I think she had hyponatremia, basically water intoxication. She has rheumatoid arthritis and is on many medications which make her very thirsty. She drank water and liquids alllll the time. I never really thought about it since I had yet to hear of hyponatremia. But then a female marathon runner died in the Boston Marathon and it made me think.
Hyponatremia is stereotypically associated with highly athletic young people so that's why the doctors overlooked it. I'm having her doctors look into it since nothing has changed as far as her medication or liquid intake (although I warned her to lay off it a bit for now). So it could still happen.
(Yes, I realize I should have called the ambulance first! But I was not thinking clearly.)
--
My close call was when I was working and we had a U-Haul cube truck. It was loaded with boxes of comic books for my company. I was 16. Two guys were up front and me an another kid were behind the open doorway between the seats but sitting high up on some boxes - unsafe as it is. I was up near the top of the truck.
We were going down Memorial Drive along the Charles River. I felt us go downhill a bit and the driver asked rather calmly "How high is this truck?"
"Ten feet, four inches" I said equally calmly, not thinking.
SLAM, the driver hits the brakes and we go flying but not seriously.
He had stopped about 4 feet away from the overpass which was 9 feet tall. It would have cut my head off had we hit it going 45.
Luckily 10' 4" was easy to remember (10-4 good buddy) so I effectively saved myself by noticing and remembering in time.
Comments
I guess I should add that this was during daylight hours.
Apparently we sounded like kangaroos.
Don't know if we would taste the same.
An ex and I were backpacking in Europe (oddly, we had dated years earlier and ran into each other basically randomly there... given the way it turned out, I really wish we hadn't, but...) and went from Germany to Poland on a night train.
Now most night trains in Europe (go Eurail!) have this nice thing where you can rent a couchette (a cot in a suite with 4-6 of them), sleep the night away being lulled by the rock-rock-rocking, and then awake in a new city/country. The porter who comes to check your ticket will take your passport at the same time, and handle all border crossings and such for you, then give it back to you in the morning. Gotta love it.
Well, the Berlin -> Krakow train porter didn't take our passports. Odd, we though, but forgot about it.
*WHAM WHAM WHAM*
It's 4am. We hear yelling, and someone is beating on our door. We're stopped.
*WHAM WHAM WHAM*
I get up and open the door.
Standing there are two young Polish Army jocks, AK-47s strapped on, looking really cross. Apparently, we'd reached the border.
They barge their way in, and start speaking in Polish. Oh good. Neither of us speak it. I finally get them to switch to German, and it's obvious they want our passports. We give them to them.
Now, my passport photo is one of the better ones I've ever taken. I was wearing my contacs. On the trip, I was wearing my glasses, so I put them on so I can see what the hell is going on.
The soldier with my passport reaches up and takes them off my face rather rudely, grabs my chin, and turns my head to the side, then back, peering at my face, then the photo and back again.
My ex is not touched, but by this time we're both a little tweaked.
They hand back the passports and my glasses, and bark something else at us. We look at each other and shrug. They repeat it, louder. Nope, sorry, still not getting it. They switch to German, and I realize they're asking us our purpose in Poland.
"Tourists."
They both look *HORRIFIED*, back out of the cabin, and *bring their rifles to bear*, yelling "TERRORISTS?!?"
Now it's *OUR* turn to back the hell up, hands *HIGH* in the air, yelling "NO! TOURISTS! AMERICAN TOURISTS!"
We all gibber for a moment or two, and all four of us are about to pop.
And then they both break into huge grins, and one says in almost flawless English "Welcome to Poland, have a nice stay!"
Fsckers.
We saw them on the platform the next morning, they smiled and waved, we smiled and flipped them off, they laughed, we went up and said "Okay, you guys *OWE* us... where's a good place to stay, and a place to eat?"
They were incredibly helpful, and apologized for pulling the prank, saying they get really bored pulling border duty. We tried to get up with them for a beer later, but they'd gone back to the border by then.
A girlfriend who lived about two miles away, typically walked home late at night after visiting me. It's a well lit pedestrian walk next to the main street and the area has (normally) a rather low criminality rate. One night a car drove by and the driver slowed down looking at her. Then he sped up and drove around a corner. She got a bad feeling but it was the only way to her home, so she went on. At the end of the pedestrian walk, the guy was waiting for her. She kicked him in his groin and ran for her life to her appartment. The next day she went to the police. They showed her photographs of suspects. When she found one who looked similar, the policeman said, if this really is the guy, she was lucky as he already killed someone. They never arrested someone, though.
There was this *fabulous* wine in Cinqueterre (NW Med coast of Italy - no roads, train only, *unbelievable*) for about $2/bottle. It goes in NY for about $120.
So all 50 or so of us at the youth hostel (Mama Rossa's!) get a couple bottles each and proceeded to get trashed while watching the sun set over the Mediterranean, sitting on the basalt cliffs about 200' up.
I've had at *least* two bottles sitting there, and we're having a fabulous time. We're all teaching each other our national anthems, and trying to find something we can *all* sing. (We finally did - Hotel California - even those that didn't speak English knew it!) I get up to go pee, and... trip.
I'm on the edge of this massive cliff, and I trip. I grabbed a rock lip basically by accident just long enough to swing my momentum around and toss me *into* the cliff, where I hit the side of my head on the rock.
And snapped the corner of my jawbone off, where it makes that 90deg turn under your ear. Just a little bit, about 3/4" of an inch, or so. It wiiiiiiiiiiiiiggled.
If I hadn't caught that lip, I'd have been a very bloody mess smeared down the cliff.
I was in Salzburg, and visiting the fortress on the mountain overlooking the town. (Hohen Salzburg?) It of course has these massive stone walls, and they're a sheer drop a few hundred feet down, but about 4' high on the inside, and about 4-5' wide. I clamber up on one, stretch out with my backpack as a head support, eat my lunch, and read a book.
And then I wake up, about 3" from the cliff side, looking waaaaaaaay down into the valley. I'd fallen asleep and rolled.
so I was crossing the street behind this other guy, and a car came in, not looking from our left, and then another from our right, both slammed on the breaks, and we went "whoa!"
the dude turns to me "dude! that guy wasn't even looking!" and then I responded "neither were we
to that he realized "good point"
and it's true, bostonians are crazy walkers, it's ridiculous, and we all take it for granted.
I was in high school, and decided to go cross country skiing up Mission Creek canyon outside of Cashmere, WA, by myself. I've got my gear, I've got my '76 Jeep Cherokee, I'm set.
I get way up outta town, nearing the summit, and realize that the tire tracks I'd been following are no longer there... I'm breaking new snow miles from the nearest building. Oh goody. I decide to turn around, and at the next wide spot in the road (it's a narrow one lane dirt road, cliff going up one side, and going down the other, to the creekbed), I backup onto the flat... and bounce my rear left tire up over a huge rock that was buried in the snow.
Great, I'm stuck. I grab some moving blankets out of the back, and stuff them between the tire and rock for traction... no good, the metal studs just shred the things.
Lovely. Well, no problem, I have my skis, I can just ski down the road about 3 or 4 miles, and use the phone at a friend's house who lives up here to call some buddies with planks and shovels.
Strap on the skis, head on out.
I'm about a mile from the car, when I *swear* I hear something on top of the cliff above me.
I stop.
Silence.
I continue.
There it goes again, right above me.
I stop.
Silence.
Again this happens.
And again.
And again.
I finally snap my head up fast enough to see a flash of tawny beige.
Oh nice, I'm being tracked by a *cougar*, in the middle of nowhere.
Then I remember that in about another 1/4 mile, the cliff comes down towards the road, until it's about 8' off. I'm 6' + a smidge. 8' - 6' is about 2'. Yeah, I think a cougar can jump that. Awwwwwwww, crap. I start looking at the tips of my ski poles wondering exactly how sharp those tips *are*...
So I start out, keeping an ear out for this thing - and now it's not bothering to keep quiet so much.
I just start going a little bit faster, and then a bit more, and then a bit more... gradually building up speed until I'm at a pretty good sprint as I come up on the low spot. And it just keeps pace with me at every step. I'm gliding along, breathing hard, it's crashing through brush, not even pretending that it's worried that I hear it.
I come up on the low spot, arms and legs in sync, a *perfect* stride going, my ears straining to hear *exactly* where that frickin' cat is, my eyes firmly on the terrain in front of me, peering intently for any bumps or ruts that would trip me...
And from *just* behind me, *just* above me...
The son of a bitch *SCREAMS*.
I don't know if you've ever heard a cougar scream before. It is the most ungodly, core of your being fear inducing, jesus h christ on a flaming pogo stick of doom get me out of here NOW, unbelievable sound...
Every hair on the back of my neck went straight out, and suddenly I was moving about *twice* as fast as my 'good sprint'.
I stopped about 1/2 mile later, panting, and there was no sign of the thing.
A funny one was I was on the second floor in my friend's apartment. We stepped outside for some air and so my friend could smoke a cigarette. Standing there chatting away we hear this groan and creak and the floor falls away from us. The deck pulled away from the wall and fell out. If it wasn't for the neighbor's deck we'd have hit the ground. I jumped into the house and pulled my friend in. But another girl was trapped against the far rail and afraid to move. The neighbor grabbed her from behind and pulled her onto his deck. I told them it was a sign to stop smoking.
Turns out they were all wrong numbers.
Aqua
You win.
Originally posted by Kickaha
That was when I noticed the five guys behind me, about 100 yds back.
Lovely.
So every time I rounded a corner where they couldn't see me, I sprinted for a while to try and add a little distance each time. Well, the distance wasn't getting any wider... they were doing the same thing, obviously. Every time I went out of sight, they were running to catch up without me noticing.
Now you know what a zebra feels like when being stalked by lions.
I was climbing a cliff behind a friend one time, but the problem was that he was 6'3", and the handholds and footholds that he found for himself eventually ran out for me. I got stuck in a spot about 80' up the face of the cliff, and I couldn't reach the next handholds (I'm only 5'4"). Then I looked down.....and froze. I can't even begin to tell you how strongly I felt that death was just a second away...just hovering there in the next brief and final passage of time.
I honestly don't remember how I got back down, because my knees became weak and started shaking. I think he must have eased back down beside and below me, and then told me where foot and handholds were. It was my first time doing that kind of climbing. NOT a good way to begin. I got stuck again a few years later - same exact scenario, but different guy, different location. That time when I froze, the rush of fear that flowed through me made me feel like I was going to float away.
Now I start to feel waves of dizziness when I look over the edge from a height. I *really* resent having this fear, because I never had it before - in fact, I had always really *loved* heights.
g
as for close calls...once in the 60's 9 of us were traveling in an old milk truck with a great dane (ahhh hippy lifestyle)...well the semi-converted milk truck only had two seats up front...so 7 of us and the dog were in the back...though there was no real back, just the two seats up front and the rest of the truck was open space...i think i was about 6 years old...mostly adults, only one other kid and me...we were driving the canyon road up in the santa monica mountains...curving along when the brakes fail and we went over the side of the mountain...but we only went about 20 feet down when a heavy group of shrubs stopped the truck...now all nine of us were smashed up against the windshield, all clumped on top of each other (no seatbelts back then), with the dog on top of all of us...we all carefully climbed out of the truck and up the side of the hill to the road...when we looked down at the truck we saw that that clump of shrubs was the only thing that stopped us from going another 1000 feet almost straight down...and we looked all around and saw that no other place along the road had a thick clump of shrubs like that...if the brakes had failed almost any other time, all 9 of us and the dog would have hurled much much further and much much faster...thank god God loves stoned hippies and dogs...
g
When I was 18 years old, I was attending college for my first year. I was driving along the 710 freeway late at night coming home from a party. Usually I drive in the fast lane but for some reason I was in the third lane. All the sudden there is guy, who appears right in front of me. He was likely drunk and had gotten on the freeway going the wrong direct. He was in the fast lane (fourth lane) and passed me at what had to be 80 mph going the wrong way. The whole time from processing to passing had to be maybe three seconds. There would have been no way I could have avoided him and it would have been about a 140 mph head on collision.
Another close call...
I was mugged at knife point(at the throat) by two guys late at night. They forced me into my truck, drove me to the ATM, had me give them my PIN number and withdraw the maximum on my account.
Yet another....
Driving home on a Thanksgiving break in the rain. My truck hydroplaned and spun across four lanes of traffic. It was hit in the rear in the second lane and that had it going sideways into the fifth carpool lane. It hit the median and came to rest. A woman, driving a Honda Civic, drunk and without her seatbelt on, hit my truck (driver's side toward the front) at approximately 90 miles per hour. I had to be told this because the force of the hit bent the truck in half and made my head shatter the driver's side window, knocking me out.
The force of the hit basically bent the truck in half, so badly that it snapped the transmission in half. The only thing that kept me in the truck was my seatbelt and the screws of the holding the post the door closes on. The door was pulled away from the cab and the post was partially pulled away from the door frame.
Those are the first few I remember....
Nick
Was anyone injured? Did the truck get towed, or was it beyond retrieving?
I saved my mom's life. (She's 73) I hadn't called her on a Friday as is usual (Thursday she happened to call so I had it in my head she was fine). Saturday goes by, I'm busy with stuff. Sunday comes around and I get this thought that it's odd she hasn't called (we call about twice a week weekends). I called her and she picks up the phone and is rambling. I get this creepy feeling and try to get her to answer some questions. Finally after so much ragtime, I hung up and took a cab over. Once there she kind of let go and really went into a childlike state. I called for an ambulance and she went down further. By the time she was at the hospital she was staring at me zombie like slowly pantomiming smoking a cigarette and tapping the ashes in mid air.
Well she pulled through over about a weeks time. Doctors didn't know what it was. But she had technically died at one point. Thankfully she gave up smoking (although it wasn't the cause and she doesn't inhale "properly" anyway - she learned smoking incorrectly thank God).
What I think happened was I think she had hyponatremia, basically water intoxication. She has rheumatoid arthritis and is on many medications which make her very thirsty. She drank water and liquids alllll the time. I never really thought about it since I had yet to hear of hyponatremia. But then a female marathon runner died in the Boston Marathon and it made me think.
Hyponatremia is stereotypically associated with highly athletic young people so that's why the doctors overlooked it. I'm having her doctors look into it since nothing has changed as far as her medication or liquid intake (although I warned her to lay off it a bit for now). So it could still happen.
(Yes, I realize I should have called the ambulance first! But I was not thinking clearly.)
--
My close call was when I was working and we had a U-Haul cube truck. It was loaded with boxes of comic books for my company. I was 16. Two guys were up front and me an another kid were behind the open doorway between the seats but sitting high up on some boxes - unsafe as it is. I was up near the top of the truck.
We were going down Memorial Drive along the Charles River. I felt us go downhill a bit and the driver asked rather calmly "How high is this truck?"
"Ten feet, four inches" I said equally calmly, not thinking.
SLAM, the driver hits the brakes and we go flying but not seriously.
He had stopped about 4 feet away from the overpass which was 9 feet tall. It would have cut my head off had we hit it going 45.
Luckily 10' 4" was easy to remember (10-4 good buddy) so I effectively saved myself by noticing and remembering in time.
Phew!
(Backing up was a bitch too, lemme tell ya.)