I like more the 'thread' where I asked if anyone was ever Pick-pocketed.
List close calls in you life when you almost got killed or died.
- Thread starter JimPghPA
- Start date
I do notice a trend here......motor vehiclesðŸ¤
Diving 38F water in a December in an Indiana stone quarry in a dry suit that had a seam failure and flooded. I could not ascend although I could get close to neutral buoyancy with full BC inflation. Since the dry suit was no longer dry, trying to inflate it was just a waste of air. Everyone else had gone there own way as experienced and comfortable divers will often do in familiar waters.
I was wearing a steel 95 and the depth was only fifty feet, so I had plenty of air to work with. I knew this quarry well, so I knew where I was as well as what the contours of the rocks were.
I made my way along these rocks upward and got a hand above the water at the dock where we had entered. Vis was pretty good, so I could see the structure as I made my way to it. A number of our group were there and they pulled me out. They laid me on my back and unzipped the suit out of which volumes of water poured. Had there been nobody there, there were rocks to either side which I could have used to crawl out.
I sat in front of the furnace in a motor home shivering uncontrollably for some time, but I was okay. I had remained focused on what I had to do and had enough knowledge of self-rescue not to panic. Under water, as long as you have air you have tools to work with. Panic is what usually kills divers and people die of this every year with air in their tanks.
I was never that fond of the dry suit since it greatly complicates buoyancy control and is a fair amount of trouble to don and doff, with the neck and wrist seals being critical. If the neck seal is too loose it leaks and if too tight can cause fainting do to constriction of the carotids.
I did dive dry again a couple of years later through the ice in a Kentucky lake. I was also wearing a full-face mask with integrated reg. Perfectly comfortable in water not too much above freezing.
Since then, for the past twenty years or so, all of my dives have been in a wet suit.
I was wearing a steel 95 and the depth was only fifty feet, so I had plenty of air to work with. I knew this quarry well, so I knew where I was as well as what the contours of the rocks were.
I made my way along these rocks upward and got a hand above the water at the dock where we had entered. Vis was pretty good, so I could see the structure as I made my way to it. A number of our group were there and they pulled me out. They laid me on my back and unzipped the suit out of which volumes of water poured. Had there been nobody there, there were rocks to either side which I could have used to crawl out.
I sat in front of the furnace in a motor home shivering uncontrollably for some time, but I was okay. I had remained focused on what I had to do and had enough knowledge of self-rescue not to panic. Under water, as long as you have air you have tools to work with. Panic is what usually kills divers and people die of this every year with air in their tanks.
I was never that fond of the dry suit since it greatly complicates buoyancy control and is a fair amount of trouble to don and doff, with the neck and wrist seals being critical. If the neck seal is too loose it leaks and if too tight can cause fainting do to constriction of the carotids.
I did dive dry again a couple of years later through the ice in a Kentucky lake. I was also wearing a full-face mask with integrated reg. Perfectly comfortable in water not too much above freezing.
Since then, for the past twenty years or so, all of my dives have been in a wet suit.
Man I almost choked on a rolo as a kid.
4WD
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R D Mercer tells of a dog who saved a kid choking on a hot dog
Working in my garage, on my dumpy ford taurus. Had the front up on ramps, the rear was half out the bay door. I was getting it ready for inspection so I set the parking brake, started it up (cold), and threw it in reverse with the drivers door open. It lurched back with the high idle, almost pinning me between the open car door and the open garage bay door frame. I was able to stab the service brake with my extended foot.
Was working on something else in my garage, subtly kicked my folded up, propped-against-the wall cherry picker engine hoist. One of the legs unfolded and whizzed past my ear so I could feel its wind.
Guess my garage is an OSHA nightmare.
Was driving my dads escort wagon home from college in a snow storm. He was cheap (not thrifty, just miserly in a bad way) and only had snow tires on the front. I spun out on I-90 east of Albany, and put the car down the 30-degree embankment. Headlights were shining up into the sky with the snow still falling. An unmarked cop car showed up in ~2 minutes, verified I was all right, and a tow truck was not far behind. $50 plus tax to get winched out, no damage. Notable in that this was my only out-of-body experience, I felt like I was watching the show about 2 feet from the driver's front turn signal light.
My mom took the wheel, she got us to near 290 in Mass when she spun out on a bridge thanks to the awful tires. She picked the high-speed lane and left the car planted rear-first into a guardrail. The car stalled (fuel pump safety thingy) and we evacuated, fully expecting to see the car get smashed. A greyhound bus bore down us and found the middle lane at the last second. We were concerned that a car following the bus would have no idea and clobber us. A turnpike maintenance pickup showed up with yellow lights ablaze, then let us off the pike on one of their unmarked secret exits. (I found the fuel pump breaker in the trunk and reset it.) We got a hotel room 30 miles from home and chewed dad out over the tires. He then agreed to buy rear ones "but only if (his) mechanic agreed it needed them." His mechanic must have said "what are you stupid" because we had new rubber that week.
The escort looked like the bumper caved in but over the next couple days it returned to its former shape. Like "Christene". We hit the wall hard-ish and there was a crunch, so the 1993 Ford Escort was a pretty solid car.
Was working on something else in my garage, subtly kicked my folded up, propped-against-the wall cherry picker engine hoist. One of the legs unfolded and whizzed past my ear so I could feel its wind.
Guess my garage is an OSHA nightmare.
Was driving my dads escort wagon home from college in a snow storm. He was cheap (not thrifty, just miserly in a bad way) and only had snow tires on the front. I spun out on I-90 east of Albany, and put the car down the 30-degree embankment. Headlights were shining up into the sky with the snow still falling. An unmarked cop car showed up in ~2 minutes, verified I was all right, and a tow truck was not far behind. $50 plus tax to get winched out, no damage. Notable in that this was my only out-of-body experience, I felt like I was watching the show about 2 feet from the driver's front turn signal light.
My mom took the wheel, she got us to near 290 in Mass when she spun out on a bridge thanks to the awful tires. She picked the high-speed lane and left the car planted rear-first into a guardrail. The car stalled (fuel pump safety thingy) and we evacuated, fully expecting to see the car get smashed. A greyhound bus bore down us and found the middle lane at the last second. We were concerned that a car following the bus would have no idea and clobber us. A turnpike maintenance pickup showed up with yellow lights ablaze, then let us off the pike on one of their unmarked secret exits. (I found the fuel pump breaker in the trunk and reset it.) We got a hotel room 30 miles from home and chewed dad out over the tires. He then agreed to buy rear ones "but only if (his) mechanic agreed it needed them." His mechanic must have said "what are you stupid" because we had new rubber that week.
The escort looked like the bumper caved in but over the next couple days it returned to its former shape. Like "Christene". We hit the wall hard-ish and there was a crunch, so the 1993 Ford Escort was a pretty solid car.
Originally Posted by bbhero
Originally Posted by dave1251
Well. Right now I'm going through Chemotherapy for Burkitt's Lymphoma. This is one close call I didn't sign for.
Holy cow dave1251....
I know you probably know the following..Take care of yourself one day at a time. . You are in my thoughts man. If you need anything... Just let me know.
Sir. Thank you I appreciate the support.
Originally Posted by dave1251
Well. Right now I'm going through Chemotherapy for Burkitt's Lymphoma. This is one close call I didn't sign for.
Holy cow dave1251....
I know you probably know the following..Take care of yourself one day at a time. . You are in my thoughts man. If you need anything... Just let me know.
Sir. Thank you I appreciate the support.
Originally Posted by Shannow
Originally Posted by dave1251
Well. Right now I'm going through Chemotherapy for Burkitt's Lymphoma. This is one close call I didn't sign for.
Look after yourself mate...not much else to say...
Brother thank you.
Originally Posted by dave1251
Well. Right now I'm going through Chemotherapy for Burkitt's Lymphoma. This is one close call I didn't sign for.
Look after yourself mate...not much else to say...
Brother thank you.
OVERKILL
$100 Site Donor 2021
When I was 15 I ended up buying a motorcycle off my buddy's dad, but I will include the necessary preamble:
Prior to owning my own bike, my friend and I ripped around on his little 250 Honda "chopper" which looked straight out of Easy Rider. Had the long raked front fork, sissy bars and big back support on the 2-up seat. We took it EVERYWHERE, which, in rural New Brunswick meant dirt, gravel, grass, hay. mud...etc. Wiped it out several times, but always at low speeds. I remember him jumping the dike with it one day and ending up in a stream and then we spent 45 minutes trying to get it running again.
His dad had a Suzuki GSX-400R that was sitting and my buddy wasn't allowed to ride.
His dad worked seasonally (forestry) and got in a hard spot where the rear diff in his van blew out and he couldn't afford to pay the mechanic to get it back, and if he didn't get it back, he couldn't get to work, and if he couldn't get to work, he was going to be fired. He knew I was interested in the bike and reached out hoping I could buy it from him. I was just a 15 year old kid at the time, no real job, just some cash from working a summer job back in Ontario. He started at $500, I told him I didn't have $500.00. We went back and forth until out of exasperation he said he needed $250 to get his vehicle back, and I did happen to have $250.00, so that's what I got the bike for.
Story 1: My buddy and I were ripping the 250 Honda down the road that ran across the ridge my parents lived on. We were FLYING, probably close to the max speed of the little chopper and came into the S-bend WAY too hot. Neither of us were wearing helmets or anything protective.. Driving like complete fools. Since we weren't going to make the S-bend, we went through the S-bend. In the ditch, trees flying by us at like 100Km/h (60Mph) then launched up the other ditch after shedding a bit of speed and then stopping in the middle of the road, our lives having just flashed before our eyes. Neither one of us said anything for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only like 2 minutes.
Story 2: I was driving the Suzuki into school pretty regularly, even though I didn't have a license, as I'd just take the marsh tractor roads. I was taking auto mechanics as one of my courses, this would have been Grade 11 IIRC, and my mechanic teacher was a wild frenchman from Moncton who also drove a bike and had no problem with me bringing mine into the school shop to work on. First thing I did was fix the front brake, which was seized solid, and while I eventually put a new set of tires on it, as the OEM ones were bald and weather cracked, that wasn't until much later on.
So, another guy from school had a little Honda 100cc dirt bike and he meets up with me at my place and we drove the marsh road into town. I was, as a typical 15 year old moron, showing off, and he wound out that little 100 at around 80Km/h, and I blew by him at 140+, not thinking about how much of that I was going to need to shed coming into the very sharp turn that led into the covered bridge we had to go through.
I let off and realized that I was still going WAY too fast for the turn and got on the binders, favouring the rear brake so I didn't slide out and realizing quite quickly that this wasn't going to cut it. I grabbed the front brake and laid the bike down, staying on it, pushing hard up against the handle bars to keep my body off the gravel. The last 20ft or so, I couldn't hold myself up any longer and put my hands down, destroying my palms. I stopped only a couple feet from the guard rail, which was the only divider between the road and the huge rocks and the river on the other side. Had I hit that guard rail and landed on those rocks I would have most certainly have been killed.
My buddy finally caught up to me, my palms shredded, bike still running, and asks me if I'm OK. I tell him yes, and he just drives into town, so I drove home. During the drive, my hands healed to the handle bars, which made for a lot of fun when I got home. My dad immediately knew something was up and from that point on was always looking for an excuse to get rid of my bike and sold it on me when I was away at University.
So I go into school the next day, my hands bandaged up and my shop teacher turns to me and goes "dumped the bike eh?" and I was like, yep, how did you guess? And he responds "I've done pretty much the same thing, how bad is it?" at which point we unwrapped my hands and one was clearly getting infected already, so we doused them with peroxide, which seemed to clear it up.
I was getting chunks of gravel out of my hands for years, at random from that incident.
Prior to owning my own bike, my friend and I ripped around on his little 250 Honda "chopper" which looked straight out of Easy Rider. Had the long raked front fork, sissy bars and big back support on the 2-up seat. We took it EVERYWHERE, which, in rural New Brunswick meant dirt, gravel, grass, hay. mud...etc. Wiped it out several times, but always at low speeds. I remember him jumping the dike with it one day and ending up in a stream and then we spent 45 minutes trying to get it running again.
His dad had a Suzuki GSX-400R that was sitting and my buddy wasn't allowed to ride.
His dad worked seasonally (forestry) and got in a hard spot where the rear diff in his van blew out and he couldn't afford to pay the mechanic to get it back, and if he didn't get it back, he couldn't get to work, and if he couldn't get to work, he was going to be fired. He knew I was interested in the bike and reached out hoping I could buy it from him. I was just a 15 year old kid at the time, no real job, just some cash from working a summer job back in Ontario. He started at $500, I told him I didn't have $500.00. We went back and forth until out of exasperation he said he needed $250 to get his vehicle back, and I did happen to have $250.00, so that's what I got the bike for.
Story 1: My buddy and I were ripping the 250 Honda down the road that ran across the ridge my parents lived on. We were FLYING, probably close to the max speed of the little chopper and came into the S-bend WAY too hot. Neither of us were wearing helmets or anything protective.. Driving like complete fools. Since we weren't going to make the S-bend, we went through the S-bend. In the ditch, trees flying by us at like 100Km/h (60Mph) then launched up the other ditch after shedding a bit of speed and then stopping in the middle of the road, our lives having just flashed before our eyes. Neither one of us said anything for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only like 2 minutes.
Story 2: I was driving the Suzuki into school pretty regularly, even though I didn't have a license, as I'd just take the marsh tractor roads. I was taking auto mechanics as one of my courses, this would have been Grade 11 IIRC, and my mechanic teacher was a wild frenchman from Moncton who also drove a bike and had no problem with me bringing mine into the school shop to work on. First thing I did was fix the front brake, which was seized solid, and while I eventually put a new set of tires on it, as the OEM ones were bald and weather cracked, that wasn't until much later on.
So, another guy from school had a little Honda 100cc dirt bike and he meets up with me at my place and we drove the marsh road into town. I was, as a typical 15 year old moron, showing off, and he wound out that little 100 at around 80Km/h, and I blew by him at 140+, not thinking about how much of that I was going to need to shed coming into the very sharp turn that led into the covered bridge we had to go through.
I let off and realized that I was still going WAY too fast for the turn and got on the binders, favouring the rear brake so I didn't slide out and realizing quite quickly that this wasn't going to cut it. I grabbed the front brake and laid the bike down, staying on it, pushing hard up against the handle bars to keep my body off the gravel. The last 20ft or so, I couldn't hold myself up any longer and put my hands down, destroying my palms. I stopped only a couple feet from the guard rail, which was the only divider between the road and the huge rocks and the river on the other side. Had I hit that guard rail and landed on those rocks I would have most certainly have been killed.
My buddy finally caught up to me, my palms shredded, bike still running, and asks me if I'm OK. I tell him yes, and he just drives into town, so I drove home. During the drive, my hands healed to the handle bars, which made for a lot of fun when I got home. My dad immediately knew something was up and from that point on was always looking for an excuse to get rid of my bike and sold it on me when I was away at University.
So I go into school the next day, my hands bandaged up and my shop teacher turns to me and goes "dumped the bike eh?" and I was like, yep, how did you guess? And he responds "I've done pretty much the same thing, how bad is it?" at which point we unwrapped my hands and one was clearly getting infected already, so we doused them with peroxide, which seemed to clear it up.
I was getting chunks of gravel out of my hands for years, at random from that incident.
I grew up in Chicago. When I was younger in my 20's me and a friends were coming home late from a club and were shot at by gang members in Humbolt Park. North Ave. and Kedzie, if you are from Chicago.The bullet went through the back window between us.
I've had several. Most memorable one - I was 10 or 11, excavation was happening in a dirt lot behind our house.
They were removing earth to both compact it and to put in a bank vault. Two smaller earthmovers kept scraping
down one-half of the lot, stacking it up on the other half. I guess they weren't fast enough. A much larger earthmover
showed up. He liked to show up the other two, giving it the beans to pass them when he could, scrape, gas it
to the dump pile, and circle back again.
Twice the small ones got stuck in the mud and he towed them out.
Around 8 feet deep (it's too deep for me to get out of the pit; I've dug a few steps into a dirt wall so I can make it
out, hop over a wall, and get back into our yard) the big guy gets stuck in mud big-time. The two small guys
have to hook tow cables to him to pull him out. Ha-ha.
I remember construction workers at that time were decent whistlers. Whistle and a hand gesture and another worker
would do something. I could never figure out how to whistle loud.
Well, after the small guys pulled the big guy out they put some slack into the tow cables to unhook them.
After guy one had his cable all wrapped up the big earthmover gassed it and drove around
the small guys. I remember him gassing it; what I saw was construction workers run to get out of the pit.
No whistling, just running. I just took off running, like this is probably a good idea,
went for the steps, and tried to climb. "Whoosh", the broken steel cable came around slicing the air
like a wicked weed wacker (which weren't invented at that time). I would have been decapitated had I not
ran.
Big earthmover never knew what happened. At least, not right away.
They were removing earth to both compact it and to put in a bank vault. Two smaller earthmovers kept scraping
down one-half of the lot, stacking it up on the other half. I guess they weren't fast enough. A much larger earthmover
showed up. He liked to show up the other two, giving it the beans to pass them when he could, scrape, gas it
to the dump pile, and circle back again.
Twice the small ones got stuck in the mud and he towed them out.
Around 8 feet deep (it's too deep for me to get out of the pit; I've dug a few steps into a dirt wall so I can make it
out, hop over a wall, and get back into our yard) the big guy gets stuck in mud big-time. The two small guys
have to hook tow cables to him to pull him out. Ha-ha.
I remember construction workers at that time were decent whistlers. Whistle and a hand gesture and another worker
would do something. I could never figure out how to whistle loud.
Well, after the small guys pulled the big guy out they put some slack into the tow cables to unhook them.
After guy one had his cable all wrapped up the big earthmover gassed it and drove around
the small guys. I remember him gassing it; what I saw was construction workers run to get out of the pit.
No whistling, just running. I just took off running, like this is probably a good idea,
went for the steps, and tried to climb. "Whoosh", the broken steel cable came around slicing the air
like a wicked weed wacker (which weren't invented at that time). I would have been decapitated had I not
ran.
Big earthmover never knew what happened. At least, not right away.
Choked on a Werthers Candy at grandpa's house when I was 9. Luckily my dad was home and he went into Navy Corpsman mode and I'm here today. Thanks Dad and US Navy!!
Vietnam 1965. I was a crewchief on a 'B' model Huey Cobra gunship. We took heavy automatic weapons fire, one round knocked out the tail rotor bellcrank which left us with no directional control. IE, without the copter wants to rotate instead of flying straight. Then some more rounds came through the open doors and I could hear the snap as they went by me. One went into my door gunners helmut and took off his earlobe. No tailrotor landings are tricky but I had a very experienced pilot who slid it down in a rice paddy at about 60 knots. The rest is a very long story but we made it out after some hairy McGiver repairs. I thought I was gonna die several times that day.
Wow, tons of crazy stories!!!
Most of my stories are my own fault...mostly wrecking bicycles and motorcycles, and sports related incidents, but a few have not been.
In 6th grade I was pulling out of my driveway on my bicycle in a very residential neighborhood (20 mph limit) and a car came out of nowhere and hit me...I flew over 50 feet and landed in the ditch on the opposite side of the road. Police estimate their speed was between 55 and 60 mph when they hit me. I just got bruises and scraped. My parents took them to court for medical bills and a new bicycle...they got off scott free, as they were the daughter of the local judge - we were "equally at fault"
My sophomore year in college I T-boned a pickup that totally blew a stop sign when I was on my motorcycle...broke my leg and totaled my bike. (been down 5 times total, but the rest were at a racetrack, or my fault)
Was driving in southern Missouri taking my family on vacation with my boat in tow. All of a sudden a full size pickup looses a wheel (whole rim+tire) coming toward me on the other side of a 4-lane. The wheel crosses the median and passed right by me in the left lane...nearly a head-on.
oh...and I have severe asthma, so gone to the emergency room many times as a youth blue in color and not able to breath. FUN!
Most of my stories are my own fault...mostly wrecking bicycles and motorcycles, and sports related incidents, but a few have not been.
In 6th grade I was pulling out of my driveway on my bicycle in a very residential neighborhood (20 mph limit) and a car came out of nowhere and hit me...I flew over 50 feet and landed in the ditch on the opposite side of the road. Police estimate their speed was between 55 and 60 mph when they hit me. I just got bruises and scraped. My parents took them to court for medical bills and a new bicycle...they got off scott free, as they were the daughter of the local judge - we were "equally at fault"
My sophomore year in college I T-boned a pickup that totally blew a stop sign when I was on my motorcycle...broke my leg and totaled my bike. (been down 5 times total, but the rest were at a racetrack, or my fault)
Was driving in southern Missouri taking my family on vacation with my boat in tow. All of a sudden a full size pickup looses a wheel (whole rim+tire) coming toward me on the other side of a 4-lane. The wheel crosses the median and passed right by me in the left lane...nearly a head-on.
oh...and I have severe asthma, so gone to the emergency room many times as a youth blue in color and not able to breath. FUN!
Originally Posted by DriveHard
In 6th grade I was pulling out of my driveway on my bicycle in a very residential neighborhood (20 mph limit) and a car came out of nowhere and hit me...I flew over 50 feet and landed in the ditch on the opposite side of the road. Police estimate their speed was between 55 and 60 mph when they hit me. I just got bruises and scraped. My parents took them to court for medical bills and a new bicycle...they got off scott free, as they were the daughter of the local judge - we were "equally at fault"
That story reminded me of a guy in high school that was flying down a very steep hill on his bicycle and hit a car coming the other way head-on. He flew through the windshield and his face was cut up so bad that it looked like someone took a knife and slashed his face up in a dozen places. I don't recall how many stitched he had, but his face looked really bad. He's lucky he didn't get killed.
In 6th grade I was pulling out of my driveway on my bicycle in a very residential neighborhood (20 mph limit) and a car came out of nowhere and hit me...I flew over 50 feet and landed in the ditch on the opposite side of the road. Police estimate their speed was between 55 and 60 mph when they hit me. I just got bruises and scraped. My parents took them to court for medical bills and a new bicycle...they got off scott free, as they were the daughter of the local judge - we were "equally at fault"
That story reminded me of a guy in high school that was flying down a very steep hill on his bicycle and hit a car coming the other way head-on. He flew through the windshield and his face was cut up so bad that it looked like someone took a knife and slashed his face up in a dozen places. I don't recall how many stitched he had, but his face looked really bad. He's lucky he didn't get killed.
Nothing like some of the above....... Newly married, new to us starter home, wooded lot and I am an accountant w/ a chainsaw
Bad storms roll through and a lot of wood is down. My new Wife and her Mother head out for whatever for the day. I go out and clean it up. There is a maybe 8+" limb down from this huge, old white ash tree and It is stuck in the turf where it hit. I clean up the yard, finishing with the big limb.
It's early evening, I clean the saw quickly because its getting late, jump in the shower as we were all going out to eat. I get out of the bedroom and my Wife and MiL are laughing (we all get along very well); "what did you do all day", "forget one?" I'm puzzled because I cleared all that was down. Then I look and exactly where the big limb had fallen, where I was working for quite a while, was a much larger one that must have been weakened by the storms and fell when I was in the shower. ~15 minutes earlier and it would have come down on me and the saw while I was clearing the first one. Killed?? Maybe not, but I'm glad i didn't get to find out.
Second (or maybe first) would be when some @#&!@ dropped a good size (as in maybe 10" or so) chunk of asphalt from an interstate overpass when I was on my way to work. Hit the leading edge of the hood and bounced just over the roof. I've done my share of stupidity, but never quite understood the fun of dropping rocks off overpasses...
Bad storms roll through and a lot of wood is down. My new Wife and her Mother head out for whatever for the day. I go out and clean it up. There is a maybe 8+" limb down from this huge, old white ash tree and It is stuck in the turf where it hit. I clean up the yard, finishing with the big limb.
It's early evening, I clean the saw quickly because its getting late, jump in the shower as we were all going out to eat. I get out of the bedroom and my Wife and MiL are laughing (we all get along very well); "what did you do all day", "forget one?" I'm puzzled because I cleared all that was down. Then I look and exactly where the big limb had fallen, where I was working for quite a while, was a much larger one that must have been weakened by the storms and fell when I was in the shower. ~15 minutes earlier and it would have come down on me and the saw while I was clearing the first one. Killed?? Maybe not, but I'm glad i didn't get to find out.
Second (or maybe first) would be when some @#&!@ dropped a good size (as in maybe 10" or so) chunk of asphalt from an interstate overpass when I was on my way to work. Hit the leading edge of the hood and bounced just over the roof. I've done my share of stupidity, but never quite understood the fun of dropping rocks off overpasses...
Originally Posted by wings&wheels
Second (or maybe first) would be when some @#&!@ dropped a good size (as in maybe 10" or so) chunk of asphalt from an interstate overpass when I was on my way to work. Hit the leading edge of the hood and bounced just over the roof. I've done my share of stupidity, but never quite understood the fun of dropping rocks off overpasses...
Been a few people killed around here from idiots throwing 10 lb rocks off of overpasses. One guy (who worked with a friend of mine) was killed by big a rock through the windshield at 5 am while driving into work one morning on the interstate.
Second (or maybe first) would be when some @#&!@ dropped a good size (as in maybe 10" or so) chunk of asphalt from an interstate overpass when I was on my way to work. Hit the leading edge of the hood and bounced just over the roof. I've done my share of stupidity, but never quite understood the fun of dropping rocks off overpasses...
Been a few people killed around here from idiots throwing 10 lb rocks off of overpasses. One guy (who worked with a friend of mine) was killed by big a rock through the windshield at 5 am while driving into work one morning on the interstate.
Originally Posted by pkunk
Vietnam 1965. I was a crewchief on a 'B' model Huey Cobra gunship. We took heavy automatic weapons fire, one round knocked out the tail rotor bellcrank which left us with no directional control. IE, without the copter wants to rotate instead of flying straight. Then some more rounds came through the open doors and I could hear the snap as they went by me. One went into my door gunners helmut and took off his earlobe. No tailrotor landings are tricky but I had a very experienced pilot who slid it down in a rice paddy at about 60 knots. The rest is a very long story but we made it out after some hairy McGiver repairs. I thought I was gonna die several times that day.
I knew a guy when in the Nat Guard in the 80s who said that was not so uncommon. He said they pretty much worked out a method where the walk on cargo and gunners ( his job) could make a choice. Stay belted in or jump n slide on the foamed runway they created in the grass or whatever the next best thing was. He said he chose the strap in and slide on the one occasion he experienced and it was uneventful.
Another thing he mentioned was how his pilots taught the whole crew how to basically fly the Huey. Something about gaps in the sandbag Homemade under armor for control linkages acting like bullet funnels and pilots feet and legs tending to get hit, sometimes both pilots. Not my idea of a good time those things. Bullet magnets!
Vietnam 1965. I was a crewchief on a 'B' model Huey Cobra gunship. We took heavy automatic weapons fire, one round knocked out the tail rotor bellcrank which left us with no directional control. IE, without the copter wants to rotate instead of flying straight. Then some more rounds came through the open doors and I could hear the snap as they went by me. One went into my door gunners helmut and took off his earlobe. No tailrotor landings are tricky but I had a very experienced pilot who slid it down in a rice paddy at about 60 knots. The rest is a very long story but we made it out after some hairy McGiver repairs. I thought I was gonna die several times that day.
I knew a guy when in the Nat Guard in the 80s who said that was not so uncommon. He said they pretty much worked out a method where the walk on cargo and gunners ( his job) could make a choice. Stay belted in or jump n slide on the foamed runway they created in the grass or whatever the next best thing was. He said he chose the strap in and slide on the one occasion he experienced and it was uneventful.
Another thing he mentioned was how his pilots taught the whole crew how to basically fly the Huey. Something about gaps in the sandbag Homemade under armor for control linkages acting like bullet funnels and pilots feet and legs tending to get hit, sometimes both pilots. Not my idea of a good time those things. Bullet magnets!
Doing AQ testing in a MTBE plant. I was on top of a propane unit hammering out a tag for a valve. At the time I noticed that the wind was blowing really hard. It felt like I was standing in front of a fan. After I mounted the new tag I grabbed my sniffer and noticed the gauge was pegged. Turned out that 10 ft behind me a connection had completely come loose and I was getting blasted by propane. I felt like I could've died if I had generated a spark when I was punching out a the new tag with my hammer/die kit.
Originally Posted by pkunk
Vietnam 1965. I was a crewchief on a 'B' model Huey Cobra gunship. We took heavy automatic weapons fire, one round knocked out the tail rotor bellcrank which left us with no directional control. IE, without the copter wants to rotate instead of flying straight. Then some more rounds came through the open doors and I could hear the snap as they went by me. One went into my door gunners helmut and took off his earlobe. No tailrotor landings are tricky but I had a very experienced pilot who slid it down in a rice paddy at about 60 knots. The rest is a very long story but we made it out after some hairy McGiver repairs. I thought I was gonna die several times that day.
I can only imagine how terrifying that was. My father got shot down in a Jolly Green over Laos in '68-69. They had to get lifted out.
Originally Posted by pkunk
Vietnam 1965. I was a crewchief on a 'B' model Huey Cobra gunship. We took heavy automatic weapons fire, one round knocked out the tail rotor bellcrank which left us with no directional control. IE, without the copter wants to rotate instead of flying straight. Then some more rounds came through the open doors and I could hear the snap as they went by me. One went into my door gunners helmut and took off his earlobe. No tailrotor landings are tricky but I had a very experienced pilot who slid it down in a rice paddy at about 60 knots. The rest is a very long story but we made it out after some hairy McGiver repairs. I thought I was gonna die several times that day.
I can only imagine how terrifying that was. My father got shot down in a Jolly Green over Laos in '68-69. They had to get lifted out.
Originally Posted by wings&wheels
Nothing like some of the above....... Newly married, new to us starter home, wooded lot and I am an accountant w/ a chainsaw
Bad storms roll through and a lot of wood is down. My new Wife and her Mother head out for whatever for the day. I go out and clean it up. There is a maybe 8+" limb down from this huge, old white ash tree and It is stuck in the turf where it hit. I clean up the yard, finishing with the big limb.
It's early evening, I clean the saw quickly because its getting late, jump in the shower as we were all going out to eat. I get out of the bedroom and my Wife and MiL are laughing (we all get along very well); "what did you do all day", "forget one?" I'm puzzled because I cleared all that was down. Then I look and exactly where the big limb had fallen, where I was working for quite a while, was a much larger one that must have been weakened by the storms and fell when I was in the shower. ~15 minutes earlier and it would have come down on me and the saw while I was clearing the first one. Killed?? Maybe not, but I'm glad i didn't get to find out.
Second (or maybe first) would be when some @#&!@ dropped a good size (as in maybe 10" or so) chunk of asphalt from an interstate overpass when I was on my way to work. Hit the leading edge of the hood and bounced just over the roof. I've done my share of stupidity, but never quite understood the fun of dropping rocks off overpasses...
That story of the tree falling reminded me of a time I all but forgot about. I was just a boy in the boyscouts and the troop went on a weekend fishing trip. We arrived Friday night and set up tents in a field next to a line of trees that are along the side of the stream that the fish-commission stocks with trout. As usual we had a campfire and the boys stayed up late the first night. The next morning everyone got up very early to eat and be ready to start fishing as soon as it was allowed so we did not get much sleep the first night. We fished all morning and and by early noon I was very tired so I went into my tent, got into my sleeping bag and went to sleep for a few hours. The tent had vertical walls with aluminum polls hold it up and I slept right next to the wall on the far right as you entered the tent. When I got up and went outside there was a big tree laying beside the tent right next to the wall on the side that I had been sleeping in. I figured the boys had all worked together to drag that big tree from the woods for firewood for the evening campfire and asked "howmany did it take to drag that tree from the woods". And one of the boys said to me "what do you mean drag, that is where if fell when we cut it down". And I looked at the bottom of the tree and there was the stump that the tree had been cut from sticking up. I never heard the tree hit when I was sleeping but If that tent had been 2 feet or so more to the right I would have been killed. The boys never though about the tree possibly hitting the tent. I guess no adult leader saw what they were doing.
Nothing like some of the above....... Newly married, new to us starter home, wooded lot and I am an accountant w/ a chainsaw
Bad storms roll through and a lot of wood is down. My new Wife and her Mother head out for whatever for the day. I go out and clean it up. There is a maybe 8+" limb down from this huge, old white ash tree and It is stuck in the turf where it hit. I clean up the yard, finishing with the big limb.
It's early evening, I clean the saw quickly because its getting late, jump in the shower as we were all going out to eat. I get out of the bedroom and my Wife and MiL are laughing (we all get along very well); "what did you do all day", "forget one?" I'm puzzled because I cleared all that was down. Then I look and exactly where the big limb had fallen, where I was working for quite a while, was a much larger one that must have been weakened by the storms and fell when I was in the shower. ~15 minutes earlier and it would have come down on me and the saw while I was clearing the first one. Killed?? Maybe not, but I'm glad i didn't get to find out.
Second (or maybe first) would be when some @#&!@ dropped a good size (as in maybe 10" or so) chunk of asphalt from an interstate overpass when I was on my way to work. Hit the leading edge of the hood and bounced just over the roof. I've done my share of stupidity, but never quite understood the fun of dropping rocks off overpasses...
That story of the tree falling reminded me of a time I all but forgot about. I was just a boy in the boyscouts and the troop went on a weekend fishing trip. We arrived Friday night and set up tents in a field next to a line of trees that are along the side of the stream that the fish-commission stocks with trout. As usual we had a campfire and the boys stayed up late the first night. The next morning everyone got up very early to eat and be ready to start fishing as soon as it was allowed so we did not get much sleep the first night. We fished all morning and and by early noon I was very tired so I went into my tent, got into my sleeping bag and went to sleep for a few hours. The tent had vertical walls with aluminum polls hold it up and I slept right next to the wall on the far right as you entered the tent. When I got up and went outside there was a big tree laying beside the tent right next to the wall on the side that I had been sleeping in. I figured the boys had all worked together to drag that big tree from the woods for firewood for the evening campfire and asked "howmany did it take to drag that tree from the woods". And one of the boys said to me "what do you mean drag, that is where if fell when we cut it down". And I looked at the bottom of the tree and there was the stump that the tree had been cut from sticking up. I never heard the tree hit when I was sleeping but If that tent had been 2 feet or so more to the right I would have been killed. The boys never though about the tree possibly hitting the tent. I guess no adult leader saw what they were doing.
