When I almost got killed!
      My parents were living in Carthage.    When I was home on the weekend, I would use my Dad's car to go to town and hang out at the Bus Station Cafe and Drive-in.  After I started dating in my Junior year at State, I'd usually take the girl to the local drive-in movie.  One Saturday night, I was sitting in the car, in front of the Bus Station, alone, when an older guy I knew, saw me and came over.  It was obvious he was staggering drunk.  He said, "I've gotta get to the County Line!  I'm supposed to meet someone there!  Can you take me?"  Well, back then I was still a teenager and knew if my Daddy heard his car was seen at the dives at the county line, I'd be in more trouble than I'd ever seen!  I told him this and he whipped out a $10 bill and said it was mine if I just took him there and dropped him off.  Back then, $10 was equal to $100, today, and was more money than I'd had in my life, so I just had to do it.  He got aboard and we headed out.
      We were almost there, and crossing the Yockanuckany swamp, driving about 80, as I always did (teenagers being indestructible).  As I crossed the first bridge there was another drunk stopped in my lane with his lights out.  I saw some reflective tape on his trunk lid when I was about 50 feet from him, swerved to the left and went into a skid, looking at a 30' embankment.  I started cranking the wheel back to the right, a wheel dug in on the shoulder and threw me back across the road, where the car started rolling over down the highway.  The drunk with me apparently went through the windshield on the first roll (back then, seat belts were unheard of).  I went flying across the car and caught with my hands against the passenger door.  As it continued to roll, I was thrown backward toward the drivers door, but it had come open and was torn off so I went flying through space.  I was flying through the air headfirst on my back.  I landed on the pavement, on my shoulders and slid down the highway.  When I stopped sliding, I looked up to see the car, still rolling over, and coming toward me.  Fortunately, it stopped rolling before it got to me.  I saw the drunk lying unconscious a little farther down the highway, as 3 drunks in another car stopped.  I said they needed to take the other guy to the hospital.  At that time, I didn't think I was injured.  The driver, who appeared to be the drunkest of the three, looked at him and said, "I don't want him in my car!  He's bleeding!"  Fortunately, the two passengers, who seemed a bit less inebriated, got him into the back seat and they left.  Other people continued to stop and I noticed something sloshing in my left shoe, and realized it was blood.  I caught the next car to stop and was dropped off at Dr. Wilson's clinic, where I got some stitches in my leg, then his nurse took me home.  A neighbor took my Dad and me back to the crash site, but we met the wrecker, on the way.  When my Dad saw what was left of the car, I think he was so glad I was alive, that he didn't give me as much hell as I probably deserved.