We were traveling to Washington, D.C. via western New York (where my father got a speeding ticket near Buffalo) and Pennsylvania, where we stopped to stretch. And it was there that I lost my footing on a steep hill and tumbled several yards downward. Just a few scrapes and scratches, though my brother Joe gave me credit for "rolling down the Alleghenies," which were visible in the distance. Like any other active kid, I may or may not have come that close to hitting my head on a big rock or something. We'll never know how many near misses we've had in real life.
Most streets in our Michigan neighborhood at that time were not paved--they were gravel. Near one of the few asphalt streets (which contained the fastest car speeds for a few streets around) was an undeveloped, wooded area with a nice big hill that you could ride your bike down. The path emptied out into that somewhat busy street, but it was so tempting to glide down the incline that everybody I knew did it. There were probably some close calls there, though I didn't have one.
Later in life, I had a handful of experiences where I was fortunate to get out alive. One was in Texas, after I'd driven 35 miles west to San Antonio to take my first FCC radio license test. That's when you had to compute mathematical formulas to receive your license, and I blew it. I drove back to Seguin in a daze, and, distraught, went right through a red light in downtown SA. If my miscue had happened at a different time, instead of between morning rush hour and lunch, I might not be here to remember it.
A few years later, I was 25 and was held up working the cash register at this grocery store I couldn't stand. Turned out to be a toy gun, but I wasn't about to ask the man--who seemed to be high--if it was real or not.
That was around the time that I wasn't paying attention and got in my car after a long day of work at that same Texas store, and a man forced himself into the vehicle. He told me to take him to a certain location in town, and although I considered veering off the route and driving straight to the police station, I drove where I was ordered. There, another man got in the back of the car and we went to an area with a lot of undeveloped property.
I was getting extremely nervous by then. The big dude in the back had a pistol and a huge wad of bills. They were trying to get me into one of those Three Card Monte situations, and asking me to bet on the game they were dragging me into, which might involve withdrawing money from the bank. When they could tell that I honestly had no savings, miraculously, they were more disappointed than pissed. And the two men even exited the vehicle so that I would not be on foot, running for my life. O Death, to reference that Ralph Stanley song, is what it felt like for what seemed like hours--overwhelming stress, heart attack city.
What can I say except that I was so freaking lucky to get out of there. And so glad to be alive today.