Most of you have heard the story of my little car wreck back in California years ago - because lets face it; I've known most of you folks for long enough that you've heard _all_ my stories, many of them several times. But my dad dug up some old photos this morning, and I wanted to Flickr-ise them to keep a copy safe, so I figured I'd share.
To recap, the shorter version of the story goes like this:
1) I woke up in a strange room that I didn't recognise, going "Ow." (And not in a good way.)
2) I remembered a strangely vivid dream about spinning.
3) I remembered another dream where a police officer was going through my wallet and found a sprig of coyote brush that I'd been given by a native american friend for luck. And I could tell that he thought it was drugs, but every time I tried to explain the words came out all slurred which made me seem stoned, which made me laugh, which made me seem more stoned...
4) I remembered (not in a dream) driving to the airport in the middle of the night after a week of far too many things at once (3 days of ski-camping, 5 days of whitewater rafting, and 1 day of registering for uni courses and drinking too much in the middle. Yes, in 1 week.)
5) And then a nurse came into the strange room, and told me I was going to be fine.
And I was. So fine in fact that it didn't really bother me at all; I was just pissed I'd missed my trip to Mexico, and having fun freaking people out with the blood-red whites of my eyes (I'd burst a couple of minor blood vessels.) Until I went to go see how bad the damage to the car was:
Then I was scared shitless. Seat belts and a roll cage FTW. The highway patrolman reckoned it'd flipped end-over-end 6 or 7 times, by the marks on the pavement. They found the front passenger-side seat another 50 yards down the highway. (I managed to salvage the radio and the fire extinguisher - the rest was a total writeoff.)
(Oh, and the post title? My Jeep's name was Bonnie...)