When we went out together, we saw that Calvin had learned some bad habits (like he didn’t have enough to begin with) in Texas. He and David said they were going to demonstrate their “pragmatic survival” skills they had learned in the military. Boomer and I were intrigued by this concept. We all went into a supermarket. That’s when we learned that “pragmatic survival” was better known as shoplifting. I left the store, not wanting any part of it, but they continued until their clothes were full of prime steaks. They actually paid for the beer.

Boomer drove a classic Mustang in those days -- 1966 or ’67 model. Boomer is one of those guys who thinks he’s always in control of a vehicle, no matter how recklessly he drives. I had been with him during spinouts and traffic stops before, so I knew what kind of driver he was. He was hot rodding down Kaliste Saloom Rd., a country road at that time, now a major thoroughfare. David had barely tolerated my slow driving all week, and started to egg Boomer on by saying things like “Finally. Somebody who’s not afraid to drive”. Boomer loved an audience, so he put the pedal to the metal. When we took the curve, I remember the sound of the tires on gravel. I knew we were going into the ditch.

I have absolutely no memory of the accident itself. It probably lasted only three or four seconds. I don’t know if the car rolled once or several times, but it landed roof-to-sod. I don’t remember anyone else being in the car with me at that point. Maybe they got out before I realized what had happened, or maybe it’s just the 21 years that fogs the memory, but I’m pretty sure I was the last one to get out of the car. I should have stayed put, but I had seen enough movies to know that cars always explode after accidents like this. That was the first of two myths that were debunked that night. The second myth was that if a person’s neck is broken, he’ll either die or be paralyzed from the neck down. I wasn’t dead, and I wasn’t paralyzed, so I didn’t know to stay put. I actually managed to stand up, leaning on the car, but fell to the ground immediately. Boomer and Calvin were not injured, so they carried me into the home of the people whose yard we had just ruined. The lady of the house was bitching about not wanting blood on her floor while Boomer was leaning over me begging me not to tell the cops he was the driver.

At the hospital the doctor told me that my neck was broken. “You mean a hairline fracture?” I asked. “Nope. It’s really broken.” The doctor said very matter-of-factly. The next day, my mother arrived. I told her that I felt okay, but had no feeling in my left leg. I’d been waiting all my life to use that joke. She didn’t think it was funny. When the orthotist arrived to fit me with a neck brace I could barely sit up. My neck didn’t hurt, but my back was killing me. It took a couple of days and two doctors to diagnose a broken back along with the broken neck. I could have made the diagnosis for them, but who listens? The orthotist returned with an extension for the brace. That contraption stayed on me for three months.

If you see my college transcript, you can pinpoint the date of the accident by the conspicuous increase in grade point average (after my recovery, of course). But the major benefit of the accident was Janice. We had dated off and on, and I had never wanted a serious relationship, but Janice really showed how she felt about me during that time. She had the hospital put a rollaway bed in the room, and she stayed with me around the clock. I had to be spoon fed like a baby, and she was my little mommy. I knew I had a good thing and couldn’t let her get away. The rest is history.

At our wedding, Boomer was our best man.

another hasty insight by Jeff on 1/9/2002