Answer: Apparently you get this (click on the pics to see the whole thing - blogger wants to cut them off so they look pretty on my page)...
And this...
Or maybe this...
Now... ask me how I know this.
Last night I caught some black ice driving home from Utah. I was between Panguitch and Kanab at about 10pm when I started sliding. For style points I made sure to fish-tail back and forth several times before finally deciding to cross the oncoming traffic lane (no traffic) and barrel off the road and down the mountain.
It's funny how many complete thoughts your brain can have in a moment like that. Everything seems so slow. I clearly remember checking my seatbelt and making sure I was prepared for the rough landing. I also remember wondering if I was about to drive off a cliff (it was pitch dark and my headlights just showed I was about to drop off into the netherworld.
But the weirdest part was thinking back to a Myth Busters episode where they showed the best position to be in when you crash a car. Btw, contrary to popular belief, they said to brace for the impact... not relax. Whatever. I braced. And I did it because I had a complete thought stream through my brain in a micro-second about the episode. Like I said... weird.
After a brief, but exciting, extreme 4-wheel drive jaunt down the mountainside (about 75 yards) I got to the really fun part... the forest!
Again, it's odd how the mind works. I remember coming up to the treeline and thinking "This is it... this is how I'm going to die." I was prepared to go from 65 mph to 0 mph in about 7 nano-seconds and the space of roughly 8 inches.
Thank goodness for massive, hulking, oversized SUVs that we should never be driving in the first place. My size and momentum ripped right through the tree (you can see where the tree hit in some of the front-end pics). I'm sure I was every bit the picture of Al Gore's worst nightmare... A 14 mpg gas-guzzling, ozone depleting tank-of-a-vehicle doing my best impersonation of a Brazilian de-forestation squad. What joy.
That's the good news.
The bad news is that tree catapulted my Rover up over the front (end-over-end) and onto the roof before finally landing on the driver's side. I must have momentarily blacked out because hitting the tree is the last thing I remember from the actual crash. Although I heard more details from the recovery team that got my car out... I ended up flipping through a fence before coming to rest in a stream with my front driver's side roof and door buried in the bed.
In my next conscious thought I was standing upright in my car with my feet where the driver's side window should be and my head up near the passenger door. I don't have any recollection of undoing my seatbelt or wiggling into a standing position, which is odd. I did a quick body check to make sure I still had all my important pieces and immediately felt a huge surge of...
Gratitude!
I remember being so overwhelmed with gratitude that I was somehow still alive... let alone in relatively good shape. I was literally dumbstruck (or perhaps awestruck) with how grateful I was to be alive in that moment.
That was immediately followed by the most intense panic I have ever experienced. One thing I noticed about those several minutes before I clawed my way back to the freeway is that there wasn't room enough for any more than one emotion at a time. And with adrenaline surging through my body like never before it was as if each emotion I felt was magnified 100x.
So when I felt gratitude it was the most exquisite, powerful, rushing sort of gratitude. And when I felt panic it was completely and totally encompassing. There was nothing else.
I tried in vain to escape my freezing vehicle for several minutes (or at least it felt like that long... it may have been just a few seconds). Because of the damage caused when I rolled, my passenger door (the only obvious escape route) would only open about 6 inches before the steel-on-steel contact stopped it from opening any more.
What does it say about society (and me) when all I could muster to think about in that moment is what they would do in the movies? I considered trying to kick out the windshield (I've seen that in lots of movies). It's not as easy at it looks, by the way. I considered breaking a window... also not as easy as it looks.
In the end my emotions overtook me and I decided the thing I would do in my life at that moment was crumble in utter and absolute despair, the depth of which was bottomless and unfathomable.
That lasted about 10 seconds.
And then I decided it was time. It was a really powerful moment. And now I finally know what committed action looks and feels like. Brett would be proud. So would Dad.
It took all my strength, but I forced the door open enough to crawl through. When I looked out I realized I had absolutely no idea where I was. I was surrounded by utter darkness. I didn't know which direction I came from or where the road was. It was terrifying. It didn't matter. (I hate to over-dramatize, but that's really what I was experiencing).
So I went back in my car for 2 things. The first was my Garmin GPS. I've got to give them props. My GPS popped off my windshield and was thrown all over the place in the cab of my truck. But I pulled it out and it worked (although my fingers were almost too frozen to turn the thing on... they should fix that ;-). That got me back to the road.
And what was the only other thing I salvaged from my wreck? Why, my 17" MacBook Pro, of course. Now that, my friends, is a true geek!
Once outside my passenger door I found myself perched atop the side of my truck knowing I needed to jump down... but I couldn't see the ground or what I would be jumping in. It's a strange state of being when my brain is screaming at me "if you jump you will undoubtedly break or dislocate your ankle. Probably both." (I have a history of ankle problems). My brain was absolutely sure of that. But something else was saying "whatever. " I knew I had to jump.
I jumped.
I vaguely remember scrambling up the side of the hill towards the road. I wasn't aware that I was literally clawing my way up the slope until later when my frozen and bloody fingers started to thaw... very painfully.
About half way up I saw a car pass by on the road. I was devastated. I knew they couldn't see me and I didn't know when I would get another chance to be picked up. According to the sheriff, there was no way they would have spotted my car (or me) until daylight because of how far I travelled and where I landed.
Upon reaching the road I pulled out my phone and miraculously I had a 1-bar signal. I had about 2 feet of space to move where I had any signal at all. The 911 operator wanted to know what mile marker I was at. I didn't know.
But wait... I had a better idea. I could tell her to within 9 feet using my trusty Garmin GPS. I gave her the coords. Then... silence. Then... "Okay, but do you know what mile marker you're at so I can get someone to you?"
Wow. I mean... wow. Really? A 911 operator doesn't know how to use GPS coordinates? That's surprising. So even though they actually had my position to within a few feet, the best I could do was tell her I was about 20 miles outside Kanab. Well done.
While talking to 911 I was picked up by Kurt from SLC. Thank you, Kurt! (Which, by the way, I absolutely take as a sign from a higher power that the Cardinals will win the Super Bowl ;-). How can I not see that symbolism?
He drove me until we saw the ambulance headed out the 89. How's this for strange... I got out of Kurt's car, walked across the street to the ambulance, stepped into the ambulance using the crew entrance (not the back door) and then laid down on a back board and had my head and neck immobilized. It was just a little comical... even at the time.
That's all the interesting stuff. Not much of a story after that.
I went to the Kane County ER in Kanab and had a CT-Scan. No broken neck. So I've got that going for me.
And, can I just say that small-town emergency rooms could not be more different than what I'm used to in Phoenix. I was the only one there. And the doctor sat in a chair next to me and told stories and brought me drinks and basically just sat around with me until the specialist reading my CT-Scan results (over the internet, I might add) got back with the diagnosis.
Oh, and before I forget, if you ever have the opportunity to be strapped and immobilized in a neck brace on a back board, my advice would be to pass. Seriously. Just pass. It's not fun. And it's hard to breathe and swallow and just about anything a normal human being needs to do every 2 seconds, or so.
When I was discharged from the ER one of the nurses drove me to a local hotel (where the doctor had already made me a reservation). She also offered to take me to get a bite to eat. I declined. Can you beat small-town service. I think not.
This morning I heard from Progessive Insurance (I'm very impressed with them so far). They took 1 look at my Land Rover and didn't even bother to write an estimate. It's totaled 2x over they said. I'll have a check on Thursday.
The worst part right now is I'm stranded in Kanab. I mean, it's a great town, and all... but there are no rental cars, no shuttles, no cabs, no buses. I need to get home. Luckily I have great friends who will drop everything to assist. Thank you Chris!
And thank you also to Brett and James who offered the same and I know they meant it. And I know there are many others who would do the same if asked. It's really cool to know that I have people.
The police, tow truck divers, and insurance adjustor all say I'm lucky to be alive. You probably can't tell from the photos, but the front driver's side roof is collapsed past the headrest. I couldn't get back in and sit in the driver's seat right now because my head won't fit.
I've tried and tried, and I honestly cannot see how I escaped serious head injury or death. It doesn't make sense to me. I think my most traumatic moment came when I actually saw the car. I don't remember all the thrashing and banging that must have caused that damage. I don't remember the roof collapsing on my head (which it clearly did). I don't remember how I came to be standing safely in the middle of my cab.
But I did. And you can believe I was very, very lucky. Lucky that the collapsed roof somehow missed my noggin. Lucky to force my way out of the car and find my way to the road (the part that the sheriff seemed most surprised by). Lucky my phone worked. Lucky for everything else.
But I have to tell you... I believe there's something more. Energetically I feel stronger than I have in years. Maybe it's the whole cheating death thing. Maybe it's something else. But I believe. I can't even say in what. Just simply that I believe. And it's intoxicating and powerful and deeply spiritual. And I wish I could share it with everyone... especially Dad. But it's also private and personal and uniquely mine.
I hurt.
I'm damaged and broken.
And I believe.
Weird, huh?
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