What's The Closest You Have Come to Buying The Farm? (3 Viewers)

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I believe I was sent back for a purpose I haven't yet recognized.
I have twice had the pleasure of writing magazine articles that covered the WWII experiences of friends, and they got to see their experiences in print before they died. Both had toiled in relative obscurity compared to the massive coverage subjects such as the ETO bombing campaign and the Pacific carrier battles. Most people probably never knew about recon P-38's operating out of India or PB4Y-2's fighting against 6 to 1 odds near Okinawa. You have gone far beyond that kind of "payback" with your works!
 
1) 1973 - Driving westbound on I-4, from Lakeland, Florida to Tampa, to see the newly-opened Tampa International Airport terminals. We were in a friend's 1965 Ford Falcon, a small and light (for its time) compact car. He was driving. It had just stopped raining, a few minutes before. We came out from under an overpass on the Interstate and were hit by a crosswind. I watched my friend stare straight ahead, not moving the wheel at all, as we did a 360 at close to 70 mph. I looked to my right and saw the tall weeds on the median coming out from under the car on MY side (sliding driver side first). I then looked forward and saw those same weeds coming out from under the car (sliding backward). I looked to the right again and saw them being pushed down by MY DOOR (sliding passenger side first). I looked forward again and saw the other side of the Interstate, as we sat perfectly aligned in the left (passing) lane, facing west (our original direction of travel) in the eastbound lanes. If the grass on the median hadn't been wet, we could easily have flipped and rolled. If there had been any oncoming traffic at all (say, a tractor-trailer (semi) truck), we would have been obliterated by it. As it was, there was zero damage to the car. My friend was shaking like a leaf as he drove back across the median to the westbound lanes and we pulled over to the side of the road. We pulled some "harvested" weeds out from the undercarriage of the car and finished our drive to Tampa (at a much reduced speed).

2 - 2008 - Our van was hit from behind, at 65 mph, on Interstate 275, coming back from St. Petersburg to Tampa (Florida). We were almost to the causeway (the "bridge" section of highway across Tampa Bay), when we were hit. The rear of the van came off the ground and swung left until the left front wheel "caught" and we rolled over four and a half times (witnesses counted the rolls for us) on the hood and front section of the van. Fortunately, as we rolled, inertia threw all the window glass away from the van. Our two kids (ages one and five) were in their car seats and didn't get a scratch. My wife ended up with a "chiari malformation" in which her brain was forced downward into the base of her skull. She started leaking cerebral fluid into the top of her spine. She had to have two brain surgeries and ended up having three minor strokes. She also had to have a spinal fusion and have a titanium "cage" implanted in her lower spine. I ended up hanging out the driver's window by my seatbelt, the top of my head dragging on the highway, as we came to a stop. I have nerve damage in my back which has giving me poor circulation in my right leg and has caused back, hip, and leg problems when I walk. Oh, and the hair on the crown of my head grows out at odd angles, because of the scar tissue. Overall, it could have been a lot worse.


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-Irish
 
I was a paramedic for more than 40 years, so I've certainly seen more than my share of people who survived and maybe shouldn't have. For my own part, I used to do a lot of volunteer Search and Rescue. We had several rivers that we were responsible for. One evening a local drug dealer was sampling his own wares of the stimulant variety and decided it was a good idea to drive 100+ mph north on the valley freeway. He left the roadway on the bridge over the Green River and went into the water. We got the call along with the local fire department who had a brand new dive team they wanted to try out. I opined that it was a very bad idea that night, as the river was above flood stage and there was lots of current and debris (including dead cows). Risk/benefit just didn't make sense to me. They agreed after almost losing a diver.
Three or four days later the river had gone down far enough that we thought we could recover the car and driver safely. I went in along with 2 other divers. I think we underestimated the current a bit. I was working in the downstream eddy trying to get a bight of tow strap around the back axle when the current blew me out from behind the car. As I was working my way back to shore, I got entangled in a big root ball from a downed tree that grabbed my hoses. If I'd have panicked, I don't think I would have made it. I don't remember all the details, but I managed to roll my way out of the root ball, losing a fin and mask in the process. Had to take a bit of a break at that point.
The river taught me another lesson a couple of years later. We were doing a training evolution after a big storm. I was captaining a self-bailing raft in a Class III-IV rapid as we came around the corner and there was a 90 foot long, 3 foot diameter fir tree all the way across the river. The usual route was on river right, but the tree totally blocked that path. We pulled as hard as we could toward river left where the smaller end of the log was broken up some and we had a chance of getting over it. Missed it by that much. Wrapped the raft on the log and while I was pushing my two crew onto the log, the raft wrapped the rest of the way and I got sucked under the log. Bounced along the rocks for maybe 50 feet before my PFD brought me back to the surface. Good equipment and luck kept me alive that day. Banged up and had to hike for a mile or so to get more resources to recover the raft, but cheap all in all.
 
I was a paramedic for more than 40 years, so I've certainly seen more than my share of people who survived and maybe shouldn't have. For my own part, I used to do a lot of volunteer Search and Rescue. We had several rivers that we were responsible for. One evening a local drug dealer was sampling his own wares of the stimulant variety and decided it was a good idea to drive 100+ mph north on the valley freeway. He left the roadway on the bridge over the Green River and went into the water. We got the call along with the local fire department who had a brand new dive team they wanted to try out. I opined that it was a very bad idea that night, as the river was above flood stage and there was lots of current and debris (including dead cows). Risk/benefit just didn't make sense to me. They agreed after almost losing a diver.
Three or four days later the river had gone down far enough that we thought we could recover the car and driver safely. I went in along with 2 other divers. I think we underestimated the current a bit. I was working in the downstream eddy trying to get a bight of tow strap around the back axle when the current blew me out from behind the car. As I was working my way back to shore, I got entangled in a big root ball from a downed tree that grabbed my hoses. If I'd have panicked, I don't think I would have made it. I don't remember all the details, but I managed to roll my way out of the root ball, losing a fin and mask in the process. Had to take a bit of a break at that point.
The river taught me another lesson a couple of years later. We were doing a training evolution after a big storm. I was captaining a self-bailing raft in a Class III-IV rapid as we came around the corner and there was a 90 foot long, 3 foot diameter fir tree all the way across the river. The usual route was on river right, but the tree totally blocked that path. We pulled as hard as we could toward river left where the smaller end of the log was broken up some and we had a chance of getting over it. Missed it by that much. Wrapped the raft on the log and while I was pushing my two crew onto the log, the raft wrapped the rest of the way and I got sucked under the log. Bounced along the rocks for maybe 50 feet before my PFD brought me back to the surface. Good equipment and luck kept me alive that day. Banged up and had to hike for a mile or so to get more resources to recover the raft, but cheap all in all.
Luck plays a big part in situations like that. Swift water is dangerous- here in the desert we lose a couple of people each year from their driving into flooded washes and their car getting washed downstream. I lost two friends in high school in 1957 in a somewhat similar circumstance to yours. They rented a kayak for an afternoon outing on the Main River in Frankfurt. They got too close to a spillway and the falling water hit the bow and pushed it under. Then the whole kayak was pulled under an held down by the powerful eddy current. Their bodies were recovered later- Stoyt Ross was the son of an Army general and Rick Oglesby was an outstanding high school mile runner (4:20).
 
During our Kinchelo AFB weather squadron party on the shore of Lake Superior I had one too many beers so decided to take a swim to cool off. With mask, snorkel & fins I headed out scanning the bottom for signs of life. The bottom was boring and I fell into a routine mechanicly paddling away as the bottom gradualy dropped away and I fell into a stuper. Time passed and a deep rythmithic thumping sound that reminded me of the giant coal mine air pumps one could occasionally hear on especially quite nights while lying in bed back in Southwestern Pennsylvannia. The sound got louder and louder till I finally woke from my stuper. When my head cleared the surface I found myself under the stern of a Great Lakes Ore Carrer that had just passed and staring up into the faces of the crew pointing down at me. The thumping that had roused me was the blades of the screw breaking the waters surface. The crew must have thought I was a dead body out in the middle of the shipping channel. My heart sank when I turned and saw how far the shore was but my physical shape, the hot sun on my back, dumb luck and it just wasn't my time got me to shore alive.
 
During our Kinchelo AFB weather squadron party on the shore of Lake Superior I had one too many beers so decided to take a swim to cool off. With mask, snorkel & fins I headed out scanning the bottom for signs of life. The bottom was boring and I fell into a routine mechanicly paddling away as the bottom gradualy dropped away and I fell into a stuper. Time passed and a deep rythmithic thumping sound that reminded me of the giant coal mine air pumps one could occasionally hear on especially quite nights while lying in bed back in Southwestern Pennsylvannia. The sound got louder and louder till I finally woke from my stuper. When my head cleared the surface I found myself under the stern of a Great Lakes Ore Carrer that had just passed and staring up into the faces of the crew pointing down at me. The thumping that had roused me was the blades of the screw breaking the waters surface. The crew must have thought I was a dead body out in the middle of the shipping channel. My heart sank when I turned and saw how far the shore was but my physical shape, the hot sun on my back, dumb luck and it just wasn't my time got me to shore alive.

Do not drink and dive….or snorkel!
 
I worked for New Jersey Public TV as a newsfilm cameraman in the mid 1970's. One day my crew and I were assigned to shoot a story about about the EPA program of sludge dumping 100 miles from shore in the Atlantic Ocean. The ship would load up in New York and travel the hundred miles to the dumping ground, open the drains and dump, leaving a visible slick of… Our assignment manager set up the story with the NJ Federal EPA and we had the district's manager accompany us on their borrowed Army chopper. I was really excited about the flight and the prospect of doing aerial filming. We bordered the UH1, a veteran of Vietnam, in New Jersey, took off from their FEPA hq and flew out to the dump area. A few minutes out from the site, the pilot asked me over the intercom if I wanted to shoot with the door open, with me sitting in the open doorway, feet on the pontoons. Of course I answered…his next question was if I wanted to open the door in the air or set the chopper down on the ocean. Never having done that before, I thought it more prudent to open the door while on the water. If you've never flown in a Huhey, the door rides on a track along the side of the helicopter and the only thing that keeps the door from falling into the tail rotor is a cotter pin, affectionately known as a "jesus pin". If you mess that up there's a better than average chance that you'll meet your maker.

I opened the door, climbed out on the pontoons and placed the pin securely into its holes, checked it twice and climbed back in chopper. Up we went to find our target. A few minutes later the pilot came back on the intercom, gave me a heads up that we're approaching the ship. I climb into my position in the door, the 15 pound camera on my shoulder, buckle myself in with the extended seatbelt and get ready to film.

Our pilot, a veteran Vietnam war chopper pilot knew more than I did at that time about aerial filming since this was only my third time in a helicopter and only my second time filming from the air. He maneuvered the Hughy expertly, I followed these movements, lost in my job and intent on getting as much good footage as possible. On of the maneuvers that he did to enhance my 🎥 filming was to fly in a concentric circle which meant that at some of the time I was looking straight down at the sludge ship while flying over it. I never gave it a second thought about the attitude of the helicopter and my relationship to the ocean, not until we'd straightened out and headed back home. I looked down to unbuckle the seat belt and to my surprise…it wasn't there! Fortunately, one of the skills that I learned early on in my 40 year career was not to panic…"keep calm and carry on"!

Back at the landing pad, safely on Tera firma, as we're getting out of the helicopter 🚁 I was telling our pilot my experience with the seatbelt. His response was…"you didn't tape the buckle closed?" I looked at him…lesson 1 learned. Lesson 2…he then told me that I wouldn't have fallen out, centrifugal force would have kept me from falling out. Good to know! 🤔😵‍💫🤐. I went on to have a few hundred hours of flight time as a news cameraman and always carried a roll of gaffer tape (Duct tape) with me. Panic, worry? "Would it help?"
 
A 15 meters fall on rocks from a cliff during a quad ride.
Medevac by chopper because of the environment.
Brain trauma and haemorrage.
Multiple fractures to both blades.
17 broken ribs.
9 vertebras.
Hemopneumothorax (both lungs).
3 months on medical leave.
6 months of physiotherapist care.
5 days of amnesia ; my memory was restored after I was transferred from intensive cares to traumatology.
 
Well there was this time I said to my wife: "why don't we..."
Guy I worked with in OK said that some years before he and his wife had bought a new car. Driving home, she kept saying "I want to drive it!" He replied, "OKay, you can have it when we get home." She kept insisting that she wanted to drive it NOW. Finally they pulled over and he let her take the wheel. Two blocks later she ran a stop sign.....

Totaled it.
 
Although NOT a near death, or serious injury, PBPICS brought to mind a slightly similar experience while photoing a para drop at a CAF airshow decades ago. The para club members were to drop in two sticks from a CAF C-47. My fellow aviation nut and I were listed as photogs, so when no one could be found to go up in a Cessna 210 with the door off and no seats but the pilots', it was me. So here I am with camera bag and cameras, wearing a back pack chute, meeting this crazy young Aussie pilot. Fortunately the Cessna had all the seat belts still secured to the floor and I was able to wrap and latch belts around various body parts and my camera bag. With my feet braced against the door frame and pilot's seat mount, off we went to find the C-47. It was soon obvious the Aussie (did I say he was crazy) was determined to see if my chute would open while doing beautiful knife edge right turns following the jumpers down. At the end of a successful photo mission, with his passenger and cameras still aboard, I could see a bit of disappointment in my pilot. In spite of his sadistic streak, he was an excellent pilot.
 
Although NOT a near death, or serious injury, PBPICS brought to mind a slightly similar experience while photoing a para drop at a CAF airshow decades ago. The para club members were to drop in two sticks from a CAF C-47. My fellow aviation nut and I were listed as photogs, so when no one could be found to go up in a Cessna 210 with the door off and no seats but the pilots', it was me. So here I am with camera bag and cameras, wearing a back pack chute, meeting this crazy young Aussie pilot. Fortunately the Cessna had all the seat belts still secured to the floor and I was able to wrap and latch belts around various body parts and my camera bag. With my feet braced against the door frame and pilot's seat mount, off we went to find the C-47. It was soon obvious the Aussie (did I say he was crazy) was determined to see if my chute would open while doing beautiful knife edge right turns following the jumpers down. At the end of a successful photo mission, with his passenger and cameras still aboard, I could see a bit of disappointment in my pilot. In spite of his sadistic streak, he was an excellent pilot.
Any experience one has at the hands of others and one survives is a good experience! I've heard the same thing as it relates to aviation. "Any landing that you walk away from is a good landing"!!
 
Guy I worked with in OK said that some years before he and his wife had bought a new car. Driving home, she kept saying "I want to drive it!" He replied, "OKay, you can have it when we get home." She kept insisting that she wanted to drive it NOW. Finally they pulled over and he let her take the wheel. Two blocks later she ran a stop sign.....

Totaled it.

I bet somewhere on a women's forum, there's a lady posting about a near-death experience involving a new car, a stop-sign, and an irate husband ...
 
Often in traffic, I'll comment, "dumb broad" about some one doing something stupid and as we get closer, sometimes it turns out to be a male driver. My wife then says, "It was a MAN," to which I respond, "His mother was a woman."
 

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