A TASTE OF MY STORY

The time was around 11:00 p.m., when I

turned onto my street. My house was a block

down past the stop sign. I was planning on

walking in the front door and heading directly

to my bed, because I needed to be at

the studios at 6:00 a.m..

I approached the stop sign and unable to

view oncoming traffic due to overgrown

hedges, I edged out. Along came a pickup

truck, traveling at an estimated rate of

fifty miles per hour. I was broad sided by

that truck. Later on I was told that the

truck left fifty six feet of skid marks and

pushed my car another ten feet.

Since the accident was only a block from

my house, mom heard the whole thing. A

mother's intuition instantly arose and she

ran down the street. There it was, my red

Pinto. She ran to the car and there I was,

shoved under the glove compartment.

As it turned out, the yard that my car

was pushed into, was the house of the parents

of a paramedic, who had by chance been

visiting them at that moment.

The paramedic, Jack Barber, saved my

life. He was off duty when he ran outside

after hearing the crash. I was told that he

lifted my chin to open my airway, as my

mangled body laid waiting for the ambulance

to arrive.

I had been thrown across the inside of

the car, pushed over the stick shift and

the back of my head smashed into a broken

door handle, forcing my brain to bounce

back and forth inside of my skull.

That was the night I left my former life

behind.

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