How Dubba G Barely Survived Being Thrown From a Car
This weekend I took advantage of the nice weather and cleaned up 2 out of 3 of the family vehicles. Why didn’t I get to the last one? Check out the brutal reasons here!
Finished with the first and second car, I started walking back to the house when my co-car-washer, from here on referred to as Racer X, offered me a ride. Being only about 40 feet from the house, I declined. “By the time you get in and start the car I’ll already be there,” I said. “Racer X” was undeterred, quickly starting the car and moving toward me shouting, “Come on, hop on!”
Yep. I did. I hopped on the back of the car, feet on the hitch and hands on the bike rack. What could go wrong. It’s only 40 feet, right?
That’s when NASCAR wannabe “Racer X” decided a few quick laps around the tree were in order! We were speeding around before I could object. I made it through the third turn, all to the left mind you. Then, as I was about to yell “STOP,” Racer X cut hard right and off I went. Short flight, major impact and, well, here’s the scorecard:
- Cracked bone in my left hand.
- Road rash (make that dirt rash) on both legs and my right wrist/forearm.
- More dirt rash on my cheek as well as my now black, cut and swollen left eye.
- Bruised chest and a wrenched back.
- Along with lacerations all over my arms and face to go with the dirt in my mouth, nose and eye socket.
To top it off, now it looks like my clean shiny truck is about to get rained on. WTF?
The hand print in the hard dirt/caliche indicates where I landed. Yes, I made an imprint. On the earth! (Pretty sure that’s where the bone in my hand cracked!) I didn’t include any leg photos.
Trust me, those are just toooooooooo gnarly!
Major props and much love by the way to the peeps at Upper Valley Urgent Care. Norma and her staff took good care of me, didn’t make me wait around and pretty much had me feeling like I was the only patient they had. Thank you all!!