The "run over my own foot" story
I would leave for work before dawn, and the garage shared a wall with my son’s bedroom, a toddler at the time, who has since grown and rebuilt and totaled an Opel GT of his own.
So not wanting to wake him by firing up the GT in the garage, I would open the passenger door, pop the car in neutral, and walk around behind it as it rolled out of the garage, down the driveway. As it rolled by, I would open the driver’s door and slide in, one leg (left) still out of the car, and put the brake on.
One day I missed the brake pedal. After three tries, I ran out of time, and luck. The car ran up onto the brick flower planter box, dragging my foot, then my whole leg under the pan of the car. The GT finally came to a stop, resting on my foot, ankle, and leg. Mostly the foot.
Trying not to pass out (‘cause it would be several hours before someone found me) I had to dig around in my briefcase (of course there’s no functioning interior light in these cars), find the keys, jam it in 1st gear, and let the starter drive the car up the driveway off that planter box.
Grabbed my briefcase, and the morning paper on the sidewalk, I closed the garage door, locked up the GT, and limped up to the front door, wondering about that nasty flopping noise. Was that damned-awful flopping my shoe or my foot?
Went inside, turned on a light, and almost passed out again at the sight. Read the paper for about 15 minutes waiting to see if shock set in. Figured after 15 minutes if I could walk, nothing major would be broken. Turns out I could walk, kind of.
Since I had a presentation for Amdahl that day, I changed my shoes (left one was ripped apart). I didn’t find my sock till later. Part of it was in the flower garden, part of it still stuck to the underside of the GT, and part of it was mixed in with some messy foot tissue in the shoe. (that tissue turned out to be the skin removed from my foot) Changed my suit too since part of the leg was shredded.
By then I was into heavy commute traffic and had to stop & go it all the way from East Bay to Santa Clara. Man that clutch foot hurt.
Anyway, I didn’t take anything for the pain ‘cause I thought it would make me a little goofy for the presentation. Turns out I wasn’t thinking too good, and really blew it. Didn’t get the contract, and the rest of the team’s been a little leery of me ever since. Most have retired by now, so what the hell, right?
And yes, my wife finally made me go to the doctor two weeks later. He xrayed my foot, said there were some broken bones, wanted to know how I did it. Of course I didn't tell him. But you guys drive Opels - so you're OK.
