(This is an article that first appeared on the old, old version of LowGenius.Net back in September of 2005.  In fact, it was almost three years ago exactly that I nearly lost my life - certainly sustained the worst injuries I ever have.  I've done some editing to clean up the opiate-induced profanity; other than that, the article is exactly as I wrote it, six days after I nearly died.)

Well, here it is, the car that I almost died in last Friday on my way to work at the theatre office in Creedmoor. I gotta hand it to Ford and Kia on this thing - not only was it still putting along at 300K+ miles, but in a 60MPH collision with a stationary object that outweighed it by at least a factor of 2.5, it managed not to kill me...thumbnails will open 640x480 images in a new window.

	A simple view of the car from the driver's side front. You'll notice that the driver's door no longer closes, although it was still latched shut when I got out of it.
	A closeup of the driver's front fender. If you look real close, toward the junction with the door, you'll see where I compounded the damage (like I was worried about it at that point) in an adrenaline rush when I shoved the door open hard enough to fold and crush the back side of the fender - which had been pushed up behind the door - in order to get the door open. I must have tweaked the hinges at the same time or something, because the door never latched again. Note: That tire has a 12 inch radius; the Festiva one of the few vehicles on the road today that takes a tire that size.
	This is a view of the windshield as seen from the driver's side. I've traced the contour of the impact point of my face in red, and the approximate original contour of the windshield in green.
	The windshield seen from the front of the car. "1" is where my forehead hit, "2" is where my nose and upper mouth hit (also the highest 'peak' on the red line in the photo above).
	This is the area between the steering wheel and the driver's side door where my knee hit. Needless to say I've got a couple of scratches and bumps on that knee.
	There's no other way to put it - this freaked me the f**k out. What you're looking at here is the top part of the automatic shoulder belt (which was, I'm certain, a primary factor in my continued existence). The two patches of thread is where the seatbelt was looped through the sliding buckle on the frame of the car and sewn together. Now, maybe you don't think this is a big deal. I invite you to try and tear one apart with your hands.
	A view of the driver's area from the passenger side. The white bracket shows about how far the steering column was pushed back and up at the same time my chest was hitting the steering wheel going forward and down. The entire dash area and steering column is pushed back 6-9 inches from its original position. You can also see how the center of the steering wheel, which was originally trapezoidal, is pushed out and malformed. I suspect that this is why it feels like someone is taking a steak knife to my sternum every time I take a deep breath. You can also sort of see how the driver's seat is ripped off it's mount and rotated about 20 degrees counter-clockwise. If you look real close, you can see where I bled on the door as I was getting out.
	This is the front of the car, seen from the passenger side. I'll concede that it wasn't all that deep in the first place, but at the far (driver's) side, it's still less than half its original depth. Go ahead, ask me why the engine block wasn't in my lap - I have no friggin' clue.
	This is kinda neat. This is the top of the car, looking diagonally forward toward the passenger side of the windshield from just behind the driver's door. I'm not sure if that buckling is from compression, or from my head bouncing upward and hitting it, or what. I'm betting it's a combination of both. You can also see how the top of the car body just above the driver's door was wrinkled by the impact.
	This is the freakyshot. What you're looking at here is the point on the windshield where my forehead struck (and scraped) on impact. Yes, that is my hair trapped between all those little shards of glass. This is also a fair approximation of my very last memory before I wrenched the car door open.

So yeah...I knew that I'd gotten lucky when the ER docs and EMTs kept asking me why the I was coherent (albeit barely) and able to walk (again, barely). Seeing the car really drove it home though. There were other cars in the same junkyard with far less damage that people died in. LOTS of them.

I'm feeling much better - although still not great - today (Thursday 22-September-2005; six days after). My chest still hurts pretty badly when I cough or take a deep breath and especially when I hiccup. My hairline has receeded an extra couple of inches in one spot. One of the few lucid memories I have of the immediate aftermath of the accident is after I collapsed on the ground after getting out of the car - I remember looking 'upward' at my right hand and noticing it was full of hair. I was pulling clumps of hair out of my head for a couple of days afterward. My right knee and shin are still hurt, more so than my left - there was nothing to give where my right knee hit, but my left went through the dash, I think that's why. My left middle finger is still stiff and sore from where THE F*****G IDIOT EMT RAN OVER IT WITH THE GURNEY. I've got a nasty, nasty bruise on my right bicep almost on the front of my armpit. My lips are still swollen (although three of the stitches have fallen out now, and it doesn't look like there'll be any permanent scarring).

I've come to the conclusion that I was knocked out for at least one or two minutes after impact; I base this on the fact that when I got out of the car and started walking toward the car I had hit, there were already people directing traffic.

I also take minor satisfaction in knowing that the image of me staggering toward her will likely haunt the stupid woman I hit for the rest of her life. I distinctly remember her catching my eye as I was walking and she just started screaming at the top of her lungs. She must have thought I was the Devil come straight from Hell after her ass. I'm sure I looked like something from a George Romero movie. Or maybe Creepshow - "THANKS FOR THE RIDE, LADY!!!!" Heeheeheeheehee.

I'm having odd episodes when I'm falling asleep - I keep hearing that CRUNCH and it jars me awake.

But, all in all, I think it's fair to say I got off real, real easy on this one. Being agnostic, I'm never comfortable invoking a diety by name, but I can't help thinking that whatever intelligence/s lie behind this asylum we call reality must still have some purpose for me, because if he/she/it/they didn't, a perfect opportunity to get rid of my ass passed right by.

If you happen to read this and you hold a named diety or two or a dozen dear to your heart, please be sure to extend my gratitude, would you?

Peace.