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Follow Learned

Yesterday I wrote about a car accident I had a few years ago. This is the epilogue


The Follow Up

I ended up hearing back from the OPP officer that looked after the situation. It turns out that after careful analysis the Ministry of Transportation determined that the patching job done by the gas station (around the corner from my office) was shoddy.

It was far from industry standard.

What they had done was no better than gluing some rubber onto the hole and hoping for the best.

The point at which they had worked on superheated to an alarming temperature, causing a rupture that had nowhere to explode but outwards. It blew the tire apart so violently that it split into three pieces and left nothing but the rim.

This was the information I needed to show that the accident was not my fault.

I e-mailed the head office of this particular gas station (a franchise operation) and informed them that the shoddy workmanship from one of their technicians almost resulted in me losing my life.

The e-mail I got back had a smug tone, asking for proof.

I stated I had a two-page report from the Ministry of Transportation showing that several stages of the patching process had been skipped. I then asked for a fax number.

I got no reply.

As I was not injured, I couldn’t really sue them. It was not my intention to get money from them anyway. I just wanted them to know that they had put someone’s life at risk due to their negligence. Perhaps the fact that I survived to tell them that they had done bad work would inspire them to take action to protect future customers from harm.

Unfortunately, they didn’t seem interested.



Lessons Learned

I didn’t really take my life for granted before this accident happened. I don’t take it for granted now, either.

I try to make sure I tell my friends how much they mean to me. I still do this today. People that know me understand that my compliments are always the truth according to me.

I learned that taking martial arts can really help you in a crisis. I don’t know which martial art contributed to my ability to loosen up and relax. But this go-with-the-flow mode that I seemed to switch into was definitely not due to reading or watching television.

I also learned that in spite of people having different beliefs (which is their right), a miracle is a miracle.

The Anniversary of My Near-Death Experience

Today is the Anniversary of My Survival

My wife phoned me today and wished me a Happy Anniversary.

The odd thing is that our Anniversary is actually in September, so I was rightfully confused.

The haze cleared when she reminded me that it was four years ago today that I survived a car crash that most people think I shouldn’t have.

The Set Up

In the Winter of 2001, our office had gone through several improvements, which left roofing nails scattered all over the parking lot. I parked on top of one of these in my Honda Civic (with new tires, no less) and ended up getting a flat. I took it to the gas station around the corner and they patched it up. Never having had a tire patched before, I asked a few questions (as is my normal way):

 

Jorge: So, will this patch hold until I go get a new tire?
Service Station Employee: What do you mean?
J: Well, I figure I’ll need to get a new tire, right?
SSE: No, not at all.
J: So, this patch will hold in all situations?
SSE: Man, it’s like having a new tire again. It’s like there never was a hole.
J: Wow! Thanks!

 

What he failed to mention was that it was like having a new tire if it had been patched properly. More on this later.

Fast Forward to August, 2001

Mrs. J was a bridesmaid in a wedding in Brockville. She arrived there on the Friday of that weekend, and I was to head up on Saturday, check into our hotel room and proceed to the wedding.

I left early that morning (Just before 10:00, to be exact) to make it to Brockville for a 16:00 wedding. I stopped at a McDonalds before Kingston to have myself some cheeseburgers for a quick lunch, and ended up spilling ketchup on my white t-shirt.

I continued on my journey, reaching Kingston at around 13:00.

I was in the passing lane keeping up with the flow of traffic, when suddenly, as I drove under a bridge (John F. Scott Rd, to be exact) I heard an explosion. My Honda Civic wrenched violently to one side and I heard the rush of wind hit as I hit open road again. My car wanted to veer into the people in the adjacent lane, so I accelerated a little to avoid them.

Something was wrong though. I couldn’t pull out of the turn.

The next thing I know, the car has spun 180 degrees and I’m hitting the ditch backwards. My car cartwheeled, spun and came to rest with a crunch upside down.

That’s the short version.

It probably took all of 5 seconds.

In my time, though, it took a full two minutes. I know because I counted while I dealt with what happened. It was an interesting experience being able to move faster than what was happening. I remember relaxing my legs and arms, so they would not end up hyperextended upon impact. I remember pushing the suitcase back into the area under the glove compartment (I had packed it in there for easy access amd moved the seat up to hold it in place. Hitting the ditch backwards caused the suitcase to push against the lever, thus releasing it). I remember ducking twice. I remember the feeling of the seatbelt digging into my shoulder.

Surreal.

I was upside down in the car collecting my wits when I heard Dude, can you hear me? Shut off the car!

 

I easily slid out from underneath (thinking about how they make it look so difficult on Fear Factor) and stood next to some folks that had stopped to help. Everyone was relieved to know that I was the only one in the car.

Good Fortune Shines Brightly

An ambulance pulled up shortly after. They had finished a patient transfer to Kingston and were driving back to Brockville. It was sheer luck that they were only a few minutes behind me.

They looked at the car wreck, obviously concerned that there would be other people inside…

 

Paramedic: How many people are in there?
Jorge: Just me.
P: Excuse me?
J: Just me. I was in there and then I crawled out.
P: [Seeing the red stain on my shirt.] Are you bleeding?
J: Oh this? No, it’s ketchup.
P: [Coming forward to take my arm after a quick glance.] Sir, please come with me.

 

We walked together to the ambulance and I climbed in.

I needed to tell Mrs. J what had happened, so she wouldn’t worry when I was late…

I tried calling Mrs. J’s friend, who I thought lived in Brockville. Turns out her parents lived in Prescott, and there were 15 people with her surname in Brockville anyway….

 

Jorge: Crap!
Paramedic 1: What’s wrong?
Jorge: I need to get in touch with my girlfriend so I can tell her not to worry. I figured I’d try the Bride’s parents, but I don’t know which number they would be at.
Paramedic 2: You’ve got some glass in your hair. not much, but let me get that for you. [Starts to pick it out.]
J: I suppose you’re going to give me the once over? Check for shock, mental acuity, all that stuff?
P1: Yes.
J: Well before we do that, I need one of you to find a wedding invitation. It was in the front seat of my car, so it’s probably in the ditch somewhere.
P2: Um….Okay?
J: I’m not crazy. I figure that the brides parents are locals, so they would have made all the arrangements. If I can call the hall, they can give me the bride’s mother’s number and I can call using my cellphone.
P1: Woah. Mental acuity? Check! [Everyone laughs.]

 

One of the paramedics ran out and fetched the invitation. As I suspected Mrs. J’s friend’s mom booked the hall and I explained the situation to them. They gave me the number and I dialed…

 

Person: Hello?
Jorge: Hi. It’s Jorge. I’m Mrs. J’s boyfriend.
Person: Oh. Hi!
Jorge: I’m sorry to disturb you, but is Mrs. J there? Can I speak to her please? It’s important.
Person: Sure. Hold on a sec.
Mrs. J: Hello?
Jorge: Hi Mrs. J. Don’t be upset, but I’m going to be late.
Mrs. J: Why? [Her tone was not a good one. I found out later that she thought I was out late with the guys or something and that I was going to be late because I had just got out of bed when I called her.]
J: Well, I’ve had a bit of an accident here on the 401. But I’m okay.
Mrs. J: What? What accident?
J: Nothing to worry about. I’ve just flipped the car, but I’m fine.
Mrs. J: Are you okay?
J: Yes.
Mrs. J: Ok.

 

She then hung up.

I laughed and told the paramedics.

They laughed too.

One of them mentioned, though, that it is a bit of a shock to hear about accidents.

Mrs. J called back shortly after (glass of wine in hand for calming effect) and we had a much better discussion of what I was to do. She said that they could come pick me up, but I told her that it was okay, as the paramedics had mentioned giving me a ride. Since that was the case, we figured that it would be better if I showed up after the wedding because she wasn’t sure how she would react when I walked in.

That was fine.

I told her the paramedics were just finishing up checking me over and that I would figure out a way to get to Brockville somehow and check into the hotel. I would show up after the wedding was done.

The paramedics completed their evaluation and found nothing really wrong with me. I had a bruise where the seatbelt met my shoulder and a small scratch on my thumb, but that was it. My vital signs were barely above normal.

An OPP officer had arrived at this point and the paramedics offered to give me a ride to Brockville if I wanted. I declined, as I wanted to stay and talk to the officer.

I went over the details of what happened with the officer and he did a quick inspection of the tire (or what was left of it). It had blown up into three pieces. He’d never seen anything like it before, and asked if he could take the wheel for an inspection. I had no problem with that.

He officially took my statement and then walked around the wreckage. In the mean time, I took a few pictures of the wreck with Mrs. J’s camera.

The officer walked up, bearing my garment bag which contained my suit. It was torn in quite number of places and steaming. It had fallen into the water at the bottom of the ditch and the heat transfer from the car caused the water to steam.

My poor suit.

My poor car.

 

Friends Can Be a Boon

While waiting for the OPP officer to finish up, I called a few friends. They helped take the edge off the accident.

Observe…

 

[Calling Mike, who happens to be at the car show.]
Jorge: Hey Mike.
Mike: What up, Jordy?
J: I just had a car accident on the 401.
M: Seriously?
J: Yes.
M: Are you okay?
J: Yeah.
M: Is the car totalled?
J: Yeah.
M: [Thoughtful pause.] You getting a Beemer?*

 

[Calling Dave C.]
Jorge: Hey Dave.
Dave: Hey Jorge. How are you?
J: Okay, considering I just flipped my car on the 401.
D: Wow. Are you okay?
J: Yeah.
D: [Thoughtful pause.] Did you save the replay?**

 

I called Dave M after that, but he wasn’t home. I left a message on his phone to the effect of Hey man. I wrecked the driver’s side mirror of my car…along with the rest of my car when I flipped it. At that point I was just happy to be okay and my sense of humour was in overdrive.

 

Horseshoes Up My…

In an effort to use every possible writing format, I will do a bulleted list of the next few events:

  • A tow truck driver on his way to Prescott pulled over shortly after the officer presented me with my suit. He offered me a ride back to Brockville
  • When I got there, I needed to get my things from the car. The side panels at the rear had collapsed over the trunk lid. The tow truck driver offered a crow bar, but I had so much adrenaline that I tore the trunk open. Paint pieces of trunk went all over the place.
  • I had clothes and things for Goodwill in the trunk. The tow truck driver offered to take them in for me, as there was a Goodwill down the street from his office.
  • I checked in. One of the ladies was going off shift, and offered to take me to the hospital.
  • I got to the hospital and bypassed a three hour wait because everyone in Brockville had either seen or heard of the accident, so they let me go through so I could make the end of the wedding.
  • The doctor that saw me actually drove past the accident scene just after it happened. The same doctor saw the car being towed past the Tim Horton’s she had stopped off at. Looking at the state of the car***, she didn’t think that there were any survivors.
  • She administered some simple resistance tests to see if everything was working properly. I ended up lifting her off the floor with just the strength in my arms. Talk about adrenaline.
  • I caught a cab back to the hotel after I was cleared, called my parents to let them know what had happened (in a similar manner that I told Dave)
  • My body had accelerated to the point where I had two-days worth of stubble on my face in the space of 3 hours.
  • I pulled my suit of the torn, wet garment bag. It was untouched. I still have the suit today.

Unbreakable

I arrived at the wedding minutes after it was done.

I’ve never felt so happy to be alive as I was when I walked down the hill and saw Mrs. J. It was all I could do to not break down and cry (that happened later on that week).

At the reception, the bride’s brother talked about how he almost put his car in the ditch a few times running over emotional speech in his head for his sister that evening. I shouted out Been there, done that!

 

What a day that was.

 

 

I’d made a promise to Mrs. J when we started getting serious that I would never leave this Earth before her. The first thing that went through my head as my car started to careen towards the ditch was I am not allowed to die. Mrs. J would be really pissed off.

 

* – Mike had been previously on my case to buy a BMW. He would ask every week if I was going to get one. This was no exception.
** – Dave and I would play Need for Speed a lot. That racing game would allow you to save replays. One thing we would do is try and have the most spectacular stunt crashes. Then we would play them back.
*** – The roof on the drivers side had been crumpled down so far that if sitting upright next to it, it would have just reached the top of my shoulders.

Mean Streets Experiment

Mean Bus Drivers

What pleasure could one possibly get from waiting for some poor passenger walking up to the door of the bus and then taking off just before they can get on?

I mean, really…

I can understand if the passenger was taking their time, sauntering up the street like they owned the town. That type of arrogance should be rewarded with a face full of exhaust.

But when the poor soul has been running for a good few blocks just to catch the bus. It’s not really fair.

Not all bus drivers are like this, mind you. Most are awesome.

I’m only ranting about this because I’ve seen it happen twice this past week.



Streets Suck

Sometimes I wonder what city planners are smoking when they design streets.

I mean, I know that grids are overdone, but they make it easier to get around.

If you don’t know what I mean, go to New York. Pick two places, then ask for directions from anyone on the street…



YOU: Hi there. I’m trying to get from the United Nations property to the Empire State Building. How do I do this?
ANYONE IN NEW YORK: Go to hell.


Honestly, they wouldn’t say that (often). The directions they’d give you would be relatively straightforward, as the streets are laid out and named in such a way as to facilitate finding your way around effectively.

However, go to Sao Paolo and ask for directions….



YOU: Hi there, I’m trying to get from A to B. Can you give me directions?

ANYONE IN SAO PAULO: [Explodes, leaving behind a tuft of singed hair.]


Why am I writing about streets? Well, I was inspired by a conversation I overheard yesterday…



OLD LADY: Excuse me, miss [Approaching some other lady.]. Does Dundas St go North from here?
SOME OTHER LADY: Dundas St West goes Dundas St West.
OLD LADY: Um…


We have a street in Toronto named Dundas St W. In some places it goes North/South. In most it goes East/West. It crosses Bloor St W at least twice, making directions a bit more challenging to give. Seriously, tell someone you’re looking for Dundas & Bloor and see what they say.

As awkward as that sounds, though, it’s not as bad as King St in Kitchener/Waterloo. At any given point it could be King St N, King St S, King St E, or King St W. I think it even crosses Weber St three times…



YOU: [Getting in Cab.] Hi there. I’d like to go to King/Weber.
CABBIE: [Applies gentle bathing to you with flamethrower.]


Ah, gotta love city streets.



Experiment a Success?

I wrote an article yesterday engineered to capture many hits from search engines. The thing about that article is that it will demonstrate its effectiveness in the weeks to come.

Any new article is attached to the front page of one’s blog after it has been written, attaining hits by virtue of being front-and-center. Eventually, though, it is moved down the list, and off the front by newer articles. Occasionally you will see footprints from web-searching-spiders.

Now that the spiders will run amok inside my article and it will move up the hit charts, causing the counter to rise steadily rather than taper off.

That’s the hope, anyway.

I’ve never really been all that scientific…

The Furry Poocano Stats

Heart Attack From the Furry Children

One of the biggest problems with pets (and animals in general) is that they don’t talk. Notice, I didn’t say they can’t talk. This is because I firmly believe they actually can but choose not to say anything to us. This can be a problem when there is something medically wrong with them.

We were off for the weekend to Ottawa (only a few days), and our cats are generally good on their own. They keep each other occupied and sleep all day.

Our landlady was fixing up something in our bathroom, so we moved the litter boxes outside to a different place so that she could keep the bathroom door closed (to keep the cats out of the construction zone).

Unfortunately, we ran out of our normal litter, so we were using the back-up one. And we’d just finished adjusting their diet as well. Perhaps too many changes at once caused what we came home to.

When we arrived home from Ottawa, Logan was not really his freaky-energetic self. He was shaking, and there were telltale signs of cat urine all over the place. It seemed like it was really painful for him to urinate, and he would visit the litter box at least thirty times an hour to pee, and not actually manage to go through with it half the time. Sometimes he just ended up peeing wherever he was standing because it was just too unbearable to keep it in anymore. We didn’t know what was wrong (the lack of speech to tell us what was up).

We called one clinic, and they said it was a behavioural issue, and that everything would be fine now that we were home. We didn’t really think that diagnosis over the phone was accurate, so we called another place, and they told us to bring him in right away.

So we tucked him into the pet carrier while our other cat watched, and meowed, and then drove to Mississauga to the 24-hour clinic. After an hour or so, they figured out he had a bladder infection, and needed to hydrate. So they injected him under the skin with water (giving him a big, wet hump on his back), and gave us some pills to take care of his problem. This all took place on the morning of my Birthday. Not really the best way to celebrate, but our little guy needed help.

What really stuck with me is how the Mississauga clinic guy told us that it was good that we brought him in because he may not have lasted until the morning if we didn’t. A pox on the other clinic, I say!



The Poocano

The pills that we were given were to last about two weeks. We had to give Logan a pill in the morning and one at night – every day. This was challenging, but doable.

The problem with the pills was that they caused him to have the runs. He would use the litter box, and then go somewhere to clean himself, but the telltale signs of runniness were everywhere. It wasn’t really his fault. When your stool is softer, gravity seems to play a much more active role in distributing tracks all over the place.

One of the games that cats play is called hide and freak. Essentially one cat will hide around a corner and jump out at the other one, who was most likely minding their own business. Cats always leap vertically ass first usually turning in the air to land facing whatever startled them.

Unfortunately, poor Logan was on his way to the bathroom. Laila jumped out and Logan jumped high in the air, ass first, spraying crap in a wide arc all over the wall.

He landed, composed himself, and then ran into the bathroom.

I cleaned up the mess (which wasn’t too bad) and then made sure that Logan knew that he wasn’t in trouble.

The next day, I was chuckling to myself about what had transpired the night before. Mrs. Jorge was curious as to why I was laughing…


Mrs. J: What’s so funny?
Jorge: The cats last night.
MJ: What happened? Is everything okay?
J: Well, Laila scared the crap out of Logan!


The best material writes itself.

It has been a few years since he had that problem. It has never returned.



Stats Whore!

So, in this world that is obsessed with Stats, I figured I would just rattle off some numbers..

So….


Total Hits to Barking Space: 19363

Total Number of Haiku Written: 810

Links To My Blog (According to Technorati): 52

Sites Linking to my Blog (Technorati): 40

Technorati Rank: 46967

Number of Posts Linking to my Photography Page: 9

Number of Hits to my Photography Page: 1596


Craziness.

Another Heart Window Nut

Another Photo Exhibition

The Salvador Darling show is closing today. I’ll be heading over there this evening to take down the photos from the walls, only to send new ones along to Sunnyside Sundays (Portugal Pavilion).

It takes place on Sunday, August 21. It should be a great day.

The only unfortunate part is that I won’t be present, but there will be all kinds of vendors and fun. Check it out if you can!

One day only.



Gorilla My Heart

I love the Toronto Zoo. I realize that not everyone agrees with the concept of a zoo, but in my opinion there are some Zoos that do great work for conservation and preservation of species, and the Toronto Zoo is one of them.

One of my favourite exhibits is the Gorilla exhibit. I’m not sure if it’s their grace, or strength that draws me to them. Perhaps the similarities between us and them make it more fascinating? Either way, a trip to the zoo would not be complete without visiting my lowland brethren.

Today, I will tell you two tales of why Gorillas are better than people.

You will be amazed…



The Window

Before the Gorillas got their new spiffy environment at the Zoo, they had a relatively plain one. There was an outdoor component, and an indoor one (these were visible to the zoo patrons).

The outdoor component has all kinds of ladders and ropes and things for the Gorillas to use for exercise, and the inside was essentially a large space with various open-concept rooms. The visitors were separated from the Gorillas by a thick layer of clear Plexiglas, so that observation of the Gorillas would be unhindered.

On this particular day, the Gorillas were inside, as the weather was quite hot and humid and inside was much cooler. Consequently, a lot more people were inside than usual as well.

There was a crowd along the Plexiglas wall about five people deep. The line closest to the Plexiglas window was made up mostly of kids, but there were also some older teenagers and young guys.

The older boys were leaning right up to the glass, making faces (which was entertaining for all of us, I’m sure, including the Gorillas).

Given the number of people, things were surprisingly calm. Charles (the patriarch of the Gorillas), was sitting near one of the females, who was watching her baby playing in the soft straw of the enclosure floor. The other females were also close by, and there were two adolescent males goofing around with some of the toys and stealing glances at the face-makers.

The problem started when some of those older boys started smacking the glass.

This caused the baby to jump a little and irritated the adolescent males.

Charles looked around and appeared to be communicating with the young male gorillas. When he spoke, they would calm down slightly.

However, this did no good when the teenagers started smacking the glass hard, over and over.

Some of the kids in the front row were getting nervous as the young male gorillas started pacing close to the Plexiglas. The teens kept pounding.

Suddenly, one of the adolescents smacked the wall as a reply, shaking the Plexiglas. There is no doubt in my mind that the barrier would hold, but I’m sure it ruffled a few feathers in the crowd.

Given the level of response, you would have thought that the humans would quit pounding on the glass, but they kept going.

Soon the baby gorilla became upset and made an awful wailing noise.

At this point Charles got up (you have to realize that this guy is huge), picked up the baby Gorilla and nestled him to his torso to protect him. He then made a sharp hissing noise to the other Gorillas, and motioned to the door to the outer enclosure. The rest of the Gorillas followed him out, heads bowed.

The humans, in the mean time, were still making whooping noises and pounding on the glass.

Now think about this picture for a moment, and you tell me who the real animals are…

Gorillas: 1 Humans: 0



Charles and The Nut Thrower

I used to go to the Zoo a lot more than I do now. I used to be a member, which was more cost effective than paying admission several times a year.

One thing about zoos that really bug me is that there are a lot of stupid people. Among my favourites are…

  • Girls who insist on wearing clubbing clothes to the zoo
  • Guys who go there to cruise for chicks
  • People who don’t pay attention to where they are going
  • People who think feeding the geese and birds is a good thing


The most annoying person of all, though, is the nut thrower.

I was standing at the barrier of the outdoor enclosure watching Charles chill in the shade.

Picture a rather large (obese) man, with Weird Al Yankovic‘s Hair and moustache, a really big baseball cap, and an ugly Hawaiian shirt draped over his torn jean shorts. He was loud and obnoxious. He essentially shoved his way up to the enclosure and started telling people how stupid and slow Gorillas were.

This guy had a bag of peanuts and he was throwing them at Charles (the head Gorilla). The peanuts were flying all over, as this guy didn’t have the greatest coordination. The ones that actually hit Charles would just harmlessly bounce off of his furry hide, apparently doing no harm.

Even so, it was quite annoying…


See how stupid he is? He’s just letting me throw shit at him. Hahaha. This is hilarious.


Did I say annoying? I would also like to add embarrassing!

I was about to say something when Charles himself silenced the perpetrator with a simple action.

Peanut guy wound up and whipped a peanut that was going right for Charles’ face. It’s as if the world stood still except for that peanut. People gasped that the guy would throw it so hard.

But it was nothing to Charles.

Quick as a flash he caught the peanut between his strong thumb and forefinger and slowly looked up at the obnoxious man. Meeting his gaze, Charles then crushed the peanut into dust.

The peanut thrower became visibly shaken, and dropped his bag of peanuts as he backed away very quickly and took off.

Charles then collected the peanuts around him into a pile, put them on his belly and enjoyed the rest of his day.

Gorillas: 2 Humans: 0


Conclusion? Humans can be jackasses.