I know the feeling well. Rolled my Ford Courier on the Harbor Freeway one Sunday morning in 1978. I rolled at least five times, waiting to die, never did. We ended up on my side, with my friend, who was on my passenger side, landing on me. He was silent. I thought he was dead. I asked "Robert?" He said "yeah." I said "Let's get the **** out of here." Thought it was going to blow. We scrambled through the front windshield, which had blown out on impact. Neither of us was wearing seat belts.
Seven highway patrol cars made it to the scene, thinking they had to use shovels to scrape us up, I guess. When they found out we were alive, six cars skiddaddled out of there with the one slow poke remaining to take the report.
My friend got his knuckles scraped up pretty bad and I ended up with some scratches and a charley horse where my thigh hit the steering wheel, but that was it. Luckier than a mother ****er.
Why did it happen? I was trying to avoid two stray dogs on tyhe freeway if you casn believe it.
I still remember everything that day, 37 years later. Won't ever forget it.
