Posted on 07/06/2013 7:15:44 PM PDT by MNDude
It seems almost everyone has a story of how they almost drowned, almost drove off a cliff, or narrowly dodged a bullet. What is your story of the closest you came to dying?
Hit black ice one night just south of Buffalo, WY. Went off the embankment airborne, rolled the Ford Bronco 6-7 times. Seatbelt kept me in but fractured my neck.
Had a mortar round hit close enough to spray me with dirt and gravel.
Got lost near Haditha dam. Saw a sign near the road and pulled over to see if it had useful information. Walked up to it and it said “danger minefield”. I backed out very carefully.
My close calls (are there nine here?) (most a half lifetime ago and I’m over 60-hey, didn’t think you’d get an old guy wanting to bray?):
Four times had revolver pointed at me: once in New Orleans when a bus I was in was being robbed; once in Boston when I kicked a car that almost took me out on a crosswalk- the driver stopped & pulled a gun out of his glovebox; once by a cop who was searching out a B&E call…he tiptoed in to a trendy waterfront place we where in a buddy was babysitting for owners who’d gone on vacation…another was WAY back when I was hitching in OK and a guy (with his girlfriend staying in the car0 told me to leave the backpack on the roadside and walk into the field. I took the backpack and told him he’d have to shoot me in the back…his girl prevailed on him to leave me alone. I shook all night in that field.
Very close (probably the closest, actually) call eating pasta with a basil leaf lodging itself right in the wrong place.
A few driving near-misses where I never had contact but it was Boston. Did a couple year cabdriving stint there too but by then I was wise to the bad times to drive, intersections I guess, but still a couple near-misses with construction vehicles running without flags in freakish lighting / coming around blind corners traffic lights flashing yellow at night. Got in plenty of bumps/scrapes cabdriving but all were minor, thank Heaven.
The driving real near misses were when I was young and foolish, sometimes when I was borderline wrong but the other guy was really wrong…after bar-closing time usually. Nothing good happens after midnight. I think there ought to be two sets of penalties for drivers, harsher ones to age 25.
Jumped over the fence in the middle of Storrow Drive at the Hatch Shell, Boston and landed just wrong on the curved median curb. Rolled into fastlane and rolled back into gutter against curb just as a car whizzed by. Yeah I was drunk and it was night. Went into Rathskeller with ripped shirt bloodied in back but, you know, fit in. I hung out with infamous Billy Ruane (RIP- look him up, loads on the net on him) for an hour maybe.. listening to a punk rock group...danced. “Monoman” says to me on way out (on sidewalk): “You look pretty beat up”. Ruane didn’t notice? Must have been the lighting. Walked three miles home after and about halfway foot didn’t work but I somehow made it. Strained ligaments of the arch. Two weeks on crutches and it was excruciating pain.
Ruane’s friend who went on to marry Marianne Faithful (you read that right-no I never met her-left scene by then) for a couple years (I predicted one after I read about marriage in paper) cold-cocked me with a huge haymaker while my back was turned to him. I fell into arms of hotel security guards we just opened door to (perp was setting me up for taking over his hotel party- had called security himself!). I was bleeding from ear and made it to Billy’s and didn’t bother to check out whether it was internal of external bleeding. Long story. MF has a small inclusion about him in her autobiography. What do I care. Another rich-kid heroine addict, this one from Dover, MA. Pigs all. I was just an easy-going pot-smoking drunk among lions.
Got threatened with death by a Whitey Bulger henchman- long story. His bark was worse than his bite as he didn’t want to go back in can (valuable lesson). Very long story. Cab driving years (if it wasn’t in the cab it was in the Southie cab-driver madhouses).
Walking through Boston Common 3AM got mugged by a couple hoodies. I told them they should have been there night before as I’d done same thing & they really got mad, jostled & checked me everywhere with a knife pointed at me. When I sobered up next AM I had some kind of dreadful thoughts. I never went through The Common like that again, to be sure.
Operating a back hoe I lifted the front bucket fast thinking a load was in it (which would have slowed the action) when there wasn’t much other than a football-sized rock which ejected just at the right arc and missed my head about a foot. That was a “close call”. Almost rolled it another time. Country living has its times.
Hightailing down a big hill (traffic busy) on a bike hit a catch basin down an inch and 180 flipped. Got up and drove home. I suppose that happens to a lot of guys but amazed there weren’t more fatalities, those the days before head protection worn by bicyclists.
Live very sedate, clean life in the country now. Drive like an old lady and appreciate the scenery. Stop and smell the roses, thanking Heaven for good health.
Hey another one (that’s it, have wracked the brain)-drank a fifth of Johnny Walker while on narvane (temp med in days when docs didn’t impress what can’t be done when on them- another long story). Was on floor couldn’t move...crawled to bike to get to MGH a few blocked away but couldn’t lift it up. somehow survived.
Every statin on the market gives me muscle aches, I’m now taking two grams of niacin a day.
He's not done trying...
It’s a tossup between being washed overboard 80 miles out to sea and an argument I had with my mother in law when she was drunk.
I have had way to many incidences.
The damned things can just switch everything off with no warning and your legs fold up.
The man who saved my life at a critical time and gave me a job as an apprentice electrician, was electrocuted in front of me while trying to do something I was having trouble with, in a concrete bunker of a pumping station lined with 440 volt distribution boxes.
We measure it at 480 vac. It was like you could almost hear it. The electricity bridged an airgap to use him as a conductor until his legs gave way and he slumped away from the power.
He left behind a wife and four boys and me, devastated with my shame and lasting guilt. It should have been me.
He saved me from dying a young death, like that of several of my friends, but I couldn't/didn't save him. I couldn't get him off the electricity and I couldn't revive him with CPR.
If he hadn't saved me, maybe that husband and father, that truly great, selfless man, would still be here instead of me, a worthless, wretched, pathetic mess.
The rest of my close calls were done unto me, with little or no help on my part. Doing a quick count, the numbers look like I have been one of fate's favorite targets.
The last few years have been a trials and tribulations period and I've been trying to keep to myself lately until it moves on. Fortunately, the Son shines behind those dark clouds and stormy skies are clearing.
When I was about 10, my cousin and I were playing in the woods when we came across an overgrown clearing with a tall brick chimney standing in the middle of it. We went to the chimney and discovered that the mortar between the bricks was old and crumbly and could be easily picked out by hand. So we started digging out the mortar and removing bricks. We got the bright idea that if we removed enough bricks from one side we could make the chimney fall. We would run in the opposite direction when the chimney started to fall and we would be OK, or so we thought.
After about an hour of removing bricks we had excavated about half way through the base of the chimney a couple of feet high and the chimney showed no sign of falling. We deciced to call it a day and come back another day to finish the job. As we were leaving the clearing we heard a rumble behind us and ran for the woods. When we turned around to see what had happened we saw that the chimney had fallen, not to one side like we had thought. It came straight down like an imploded building, leaving a big pile of bricks. If we had still been standing there we would have been buried.
WOW! First, let me thank you for your service. I can’t imagine going through THAT whole scenario (what you saw and heard before the shells hit) as an adult let alone an 18 year old. Eight hours with one lung - that had to be worse than anything I can imagine -fighting for every breath while the battle goes on and not knowing if/when help would come if you’d still be alive to see ‘em or etc. You don’t mention much about the shrapnel and pain. Hades on Earth! I recall reading two Vietnam POW books that both referenced that location. One was titled “The Climate of Hell” and the other was “When Hell Was in Session.” And of course War is Hell - yes fighting for every breath with that going on and not knowing how it was going to ‘end’ for you - that sounds like Hell.
I was just a 14 year old in a neighbor’s backyard when some fool figured that his high powered rifle/tripod setup meant he had to walk all the way down the range to see if he hit his target and that little sapling near him, 60 degrees from the direction of his target was just so conveniently close and wouldn’t it be cool to see a sapling collapse! Apparently he didn’t think that the bullet would travel beyond the sapling?
Hahahahaahaha!
Just over 10 years ago, I got into hiking in a big way. I quickly worked my way up to all-day 25+ mile hikes by parking at a trailhead and doing a "loop" through the forests of New England, particularly New Hampshire and western Mass.
Anyway, it was February and my wife wanted to take the kids to Disneyland during school vacation (for like the 5th time). I was sick and tired of Disneyland and begged off the trip, especially as the MIL and other relatives would be making the trip as well.
So the weekend they left, I booked a hotel up in the White Mountains region of New Hampshire and planned a 28 mile hike for that Saturday on a trail I hiked the previous autumn. The snow cover was not that deep for that time of year so it seemed a perfect time to do the hike again in winter. A snowstorm was forecasted for Saturday night and Sunday so I had visions of spending Sunday at the hotel resting in the hot tub and having nothing to do but read some books and drink a bottle of wine or two.
I drove up Friday night and got up bright and early to start the hike. I had to be at the trailhead at the crack of dawn as there was only about 10 hours of good daylight that time of year and I didn't want to get caught in the dark in the middle of the woods and it would take me about 8 hours of walking (not including rest) to make the hike. The terrain would be hilly but no major inclines so I figured I would be able to average close to 3.5 mph.
With a snowstorm on the way, I was paying attention to updates. As of that morning, the snow was expected to move in around dark. As I figured to be back to my car by dark, I wasn't that worried and actually the prospect of ending my hike in a bit of snow actually appealed to me.
I was at the breakfast diner by 5:30am where I had a heavy breakfast along with some truck drivers that stopped in and by 6am was pulling into the trailhead - I was the the only car there but wasn't worried as it was still early.
So with a light backpack of some nuts, raisins, a couple peanut butter sandwiches, other snack bars and plenty of water, I set off down the trail as the eastern sky behind me just started to lighten a bit.
For the first few hours, everything went smoothly and I was making excellent time and feeling good. I actually ran into other hikers coming from the other direction. The trail only had snow and ice in some places, mostly it was bare ground and not that cold at all. However, as the halfway point approached, I noticed that the skies were now overcast and that the clouds were lowering. It appeared that the snowstorm was going to come a little early.
As I reached the 14 mile point where the trail U-turned back east for the long loop back to the trailhead, I took a brief rest to bolt down my sandwiches and get a good long drink of water. The sky was definitely darkening and I saw what appeared to be falling snow off in the distance to the west, but I was still not concerned. I was now headed back to the car, which was 4-5 hours away at my current pace. It was just around 11am and thus had a solid 5-6 hours of daylight left. It would be a piece of cake.
Barely a half hour later, I noticed the first flakes and very quickly, the snow was falling at a moderate pace and the cold ground rapidly became snow covered. I now began to quicken up the pace which caused me to slip and slide a little on the trail. Not good as you do not want to fall and injure yourself on a trail in the middle of the woods with a snowstorm bearing down on you. I had a cellphone with me (turned off to save the battery) but was not sure how good a signal I would get this deep in the forest if I needed to turn it on.
As the snow increased in intensity, I could no longer rely on the ground to pick up the trail. I had to now rely on the reflective trail markers, which themselves were becoming partially obscured by the falling snow. I actually started veering off the trail (losing time) and had to backtrack to pick up the markers, were were in some instances very far apart. I now felt like I was stuck in a Jack London story.
The snow now started to fall heavily and the first twinges of panic started to hit me. I had to get to the car not only before dark but before the snow got too deep for me to drive it back to the road!
Around 3PM, it started getting noticeably darker and no signs of the trailhead. I started wondering whether I wandered off the trail and picked up a different trail (it happens). When my pedometer hit 28 miles, I was still in the middle of darkening woods in heavy blowing snow and no sign of the trailhead. As I walked further, I now come to realize that somehow I picked up a different trail and now might be walking miles out of my way.
I am now kicking myself for not bringing a compass as I no longer know whether I am heading east, north or south. I'm pretty sure I'm not heading west as that would have required a full 180 but then again, I have no way to be certain of that either.
Snow is now 3-4 inches deep and it is dark enough where I need to pull out my flashlight (thank goodness I brought one of those) and find the reflective markers that way. I decide that even though I'm obviously on a different trail, my best bet is to follow it to the end as surely it will put me back on the main road...unless I somehow got turned around and now I'm walking the same trail backwards! That thought sends chills up my spine because this would mean I'd be walking the full 28 miles all over again and I was pretty sure I would not have the stamina for that. Already, my legs are killing me and I just want to sit down and rest for a while - but that would certainly be a very dangerous thing to do in this cold and snow.
So I trudge on for what seems like hours until suddenly I find myself on the main road, which at least was recently plowed. I look at my watch and it is 6:45! I have now been walking for over 12 hours.
Now that I am on the road, I now have to decide whether to turn right (south) or left (north). I'm pretty sure that my car is parked up the road to the north as I got the sense that I veered to the south when I picked up the wrong trail. But if I choose wrong, the road goes some 15 miles north before you even hit so much as a gas station. On the other hand, I know that the town I'm staying in is only a few miles to the south. But if my car is parked to the north, I'd have to walk all the way into town unless I can get a snow plow driver to pick me up - there is no traffic on this road whatsoever currently and with the snowstorm now at its height, it might be hours before they plow this road again.
Now totally disoriented and feeling very fatigued, I make the decision to head north where I'm pretty sure my car is. But as I stagger up the road into the wind-driven snow, I realize that it is quite possible that I could walk right by the trailhead (and my car) without even realizing it as visibility is poor and everything on the ground is covered in white.
Fortunately, I see a road sign that I recognized from before and I am now convinced I'm heading to my car. Only I forget how far away the trailhead is from this sign, was it one mile or several miles?
At this point, I am freezing cold, tired and miserable. If a snowplow does not come up this road again tonight and I can't find my car, I am in some serious trouble as I did not bring any overnight survival gear with me. Best I can do is bury myself in a snowbank and use body heat to stay warm and hope I don't get frostbite on my extremities.
Staggering along, I see what might be the pull-in to the trail-head. Sure enough I see the clearing that is the parking lot and a big snow-covered lump which is where my car is. Obviously I took a different trail on the way back that put me a mile or two further down the road.
With much relief, I get into the car and it starts right up. Before getting too comfortable though, I must now clear the car of snow and find a way to get it back on the road. There is now 2-3 inches of fresh unplowed snow on the road and a good six inches on the ground total.
As I'm clearing the snow off my car, I see flashing yellow lights in the trees by the road - the snowplows are coming through again! I hobble to the road to flag them down (I will probably need a tow back to the road) but they are long gone by the time I get there.
I head back to the car and finish clearing the snow off of it and now attempt to get back on the road. Surprisingly, the traction is good and I'm able to get the car up to the road. However, due to the snowplows coming through, there is a bank of snow that my car will surely not make it through. At least I'm smart enough not to attempt it because getting your car stuck in a snowbank will surely get it hopelessly mired and if you are able to get partially through, the nose of your car will be sticking out and likely get whacked by the next snowplow that comes along.
So now I am forced to clear the snowbank by hand as I have no shovel in the trunk (like any New Englander should) and manage to clear enough space to get my car through but not before I put some serious frostbite on my fingers because even though I have gloves, the snow has now gotten into the inside of my gloves.
I manage to plow the car through the snow bank and fishtail a little on the main road before re-gaining control. With the heaters blasting, I head into town while de-frosting my hands and face. I hardly even remember how I got to my hotel room that night but somehow I got my clothes peeled off and collapsed into bed where I was out cold for the next 10 hours.
That snowstorm ended up dumping two feet of snow and had it taken me an hour or two longer to get to my car, I seriously doubt that I would be around to write this story today.
On my one and only snowmobile trip I go lost in a snow storm from the group. I managed to stay on the trail and the leader came back to look for me. I am a Gulf Coast of Texas woman and not accustomed to snow, mountains or snowstorms. Yikes I was scared and it was only for an hour or so.
Thank You for the kind comment. Honestly I don’t remember any striking pain from the explosion and shrapnel, just a very hard pressure. I still have shrapnel remnants inside 1 lung and 1 leg today 45 yrs later as a reminder. At 18 of course you feel indestructible and after many hours there were thoughts and fear in my mind we would be overrun before enough help arrived to get out. One of my daughters is an ER trauma nurse and told me I had an Angel on my shoulder as I should not have lasted long enough to get pulled out after that many hours. So yes, I count my blessings every day.
Ever play geoguessr.com?
The old man would have enjoyed the irony of that.
My dad wanted to be buried in his dress blues. We think he may have donated them to charity, though, as despite a frantic search of everything we never did find them.
I hope the blue dress was close enough...
Yes, recently. That is a great game. I am surprised how much parts of Russia look like New England.
My top score so far is 32329, started playing 3 days ago.
I think top available is something like 32895.
Closest miss .0002 km, that’s like 8 inches...
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