It's a really low resolution picture from my cell phone, but the general idea is that our 92 Volvo is toast. My son Sam was driving down a back road at the 45 mile per hour speed limit when he strayed a bit onto the narrow gravel shoulder. I said something like "SAM!" . He over corrected and found himself in the oncoming traffic lane. Another over correction and the car spun, slid into a ditch and was decisively stopped by a telephone pole. The picture is a view from the back with a tailight near the center of the photo. The rear of the drivers side is crushed deeply into the car. We hit hard enough to knock the radio right out of the dash. Sam was scraped by a seat belt but otherwise fine. I suppose a combination of being 40 years older than him and of where I sat accounts for the fact that I was hurting pretty bad. But the xrays of my pelvis, arm and ribs say nothing is broken. Now I am just really sore 9 hours later, and will probably be worse tomorrow and the next day.
I think it is time to stop whining about getting old and to be thankful that this ended so well!
Folks who actually saw the wreck were pretty impressed that we crawled out alive and relatively unscathed. Of course they were a bit distracted by the power lines that swayed, struck sparks, and started a grass fire a few yards from the car.
It happened to be a very busy time in the emergency room. I got to practice relaxation techniques while strapped to a rock hard back board and waiting for the doctor to get to the easy cases like me. I prayed. My family prayed. My church family prayed. I had some tense moments, but I was very grateful for the outpouring of love and support.