I was 17. I knew the minute he took the corner we were going to wreck. He was going way too fast and the roads were still wet from the rain. That ‘71 Charger was always too much for him and it was about to be the end of me. We hit the tree doing about 40. No seat belts. I smashed the windshield with my face but jumped out before I even started to bleed. A quick scan of the situation. Car was totaled, John seemed to be ok. I was having little trouble with my left arm and blood was pouring into my right eye. I reached up to touch my head and I could feel a large chunk of my forehead dangling… I felt my exposed skull. (by the way, that’s a weird feeling, feeling your own skull.) Luckily there didn’t seem to be any holes or cracks in it. My brain seemed to still be working and I could walk and talk.
The people whose front yard we’d smashed into at one am came out and took one look at me and called an ambulance. I told em I was alright, but they brought me onto their front porch and put a towel on my head. I wasn’t in too much pain, I was just really tired. I told I just wanted to lay down and that got em really excited. “Oh no! You need to stay upright and awake until the ambulance comes!” Poor bastards probably thought I was gonna die right there on their porch like some old western movie.
My favorite part was the ambulance ride. Laying in the stretcher and John saying “Dude, You look like something outta Faces of Death!”
“Really,” I said. “Hey you got a mirror?” I asked the paramedic.
Teenage boys…
Shame about that ‘71 Charger though.
