What a maroon!

In 1967 I managed a single-car roll-over in downtown Portland, Oregon, at 2:30 in the afternoon. I was wearing a seat belt.

I was home and had purchased a brand-new small foreign car. Dandy thing with an automatic transmission as I had smashed up my ankle and was in casts for 4 months. Fast little car. Low. Anyway, drinking that afternoon I headed into downtown and drove rapidly into a downhill curve. I barely missed the turn, caught the wheels against the curbing and as I went around it flipped the car onto it's roof and away I went, spinning around, molten metal all around, smoke. People came along and tried to pull me out, with the seat belt not permitting that. After I figured out who I was, where I was and why I was upside down I undid the belt and slammed my privates into the steering wheel.

I managed to turn into the window, and folks continued extricating me.

Fire engines and cops all over the place. It was downtown, after all. A cop saw me kind of stagger and asked if I'd had too much to drink. Of course I said no, told him I'd just gotten my leg out of a cast and should have crutches. Well, he had a notepad out, and started asking questions. Asked how fast. I don't know. Well, were you doing 15 miles an hour? Well, I said, look at the car. I suppose. But, Sir, with all due respect my Dad always told me to never answer these questions. I can understand that, he says. Do you think you were doing 20 miles an hour? I'm sure I was. Were you doing 25? Well, I'm sorry - That's OK, he says. It was after that I noticed the curve was posted at 15MPH, and he had me admitting to over that. The rascal.

I wound up with a ticket for something called "careless driving", at a cost of $15. Absolutely delighted to pay that. And I've never ridden without a seat belt since.

Arf