What was the scariest experience you ever had?
Shortly before my (now ex) wife and I were married, we co-habited at my family's farm, in upstate New York. We were both employees of the farm, and she worked as a cashier at the little general store that was one of our farm's business enterprises, we lived in a tiny apartment above the store. Late one afternoon, after our shifts were over, we decided to drive to the county seat, around nine miles away, to hit a bar and have a few drinks. "A" (my fiancee) was looking gorgeous in a red dress. We had a huge car, an older Mercury Marquis, which was a gas hog, it had a big 350 V8, and that car could move! A mile or so south of the town, there is an expanded- steel deck bridge which crosses a river, and right before the bridge is a general store with gas pumps. And as luck would have it, just as we rolled onto the bridge, our car ran out of gas. It was still daylight, we were in a rural area with little vehicle traffic, but with the car stalled on a two- lane bridge, getting it off that bridge was a pretty major priority! I put the transmission in "neutral", and we attempted to push the car backwards, and off of the bridge, but the car was so massive and heavy, that we only succeeded in pushing it a few yards, wasn't gonna work. We had a gas can in the trunk, so I grabbed it and ran to the general store to buy some gas. But insanely, the kid behind the counter at the store had just turned off the pumps, and refused to turn them on and sell me enough gas to get our car off of the bridge. I explained our situation, showed him a handful of cash, but the creep wouldn't budge, and told me that the store had just closed, and that there was nothing that he could do! (note to travelers- don't believe stories that you may hear about people in upstate New York being friendly. Most of the time they are assholes like this kid,) I went back to the car and told my fiancee. As we stood by the car, with the gas can in my hand, a biker saw our predicament, stopped, and offered to run into the nearby town, to get us some gas. I gave him the gas can and some cash, and he took off for town. We now could only wait for the guy to return with the gas, I leaned back on the bridge railing, no way did I want to sit in the car, with evening approaching. But my fiancee went and sat herself down on the hood of the car, and told me that I should do the same, and join her. I said something to the effect of "you're crazy", but she finally talked me into it, and I sat down beside her, and we began chatting. It was a hot summer evening, and I had taken off my shirt, and was in my jeans and work boots, and she was wearing that red dress... Suddenly- BANG! We both were flying through the air. A drunk woman in an old pickup truck had slammed into the back of our car at full speed. Because our car was still in neutral, it lurched forward abruptly, throwing both of us into the air, we both landed on the bridge on the passenger side of our car, and as I rolled over on the bridge deck a few times, I saw the back tire roll over my fiancee's legs. The pickup truck had come to a dead stop the moment that it had struck our back bumper. The grille and front bumper of the pickup were smashed to shit. Our car had continued rolling forward several yards from the force of the impact. and my fiancee was lying on her back, on the bridge deck, screaming. Her right calf and thigh were alongside each other. When she had landed, her right leg had buckled, the kneecap had popped, and all that she could do was to lay there and scream. She wouldn't allow me to help her up, or to straighten her leg, and, when the paramedics arrived, she told them that they would have to anesthesize her before she would allow them to straighten her leg. The paramedics called up to the local hospital for the anesthetist, who it turned out was away on a golfing trip, so we had to wait until one from another hospital almost 40 miles away could get to her. It seemed like hours before he arrived. When they put my knocked- out fiancee's gurney on the ambulance, I was told that I could ride along. The sheriffs had arrested the drunk woman, and had gotten our car back off the bridge and safely parked. When I went to jump into the back of the ambulance, suddenly, I had a post- traumatic stress attack, and very nearly passed out myself. I sat in the waiting room for hours, while the doctors patched up my beautiful fiancee. Finally, I was told that I could go see her. She had a full leg cast. I crawled onto the hospital bed with her and held her tight all the rest of the night, sobbing. A few days later, I noticed some unusual pain in my calves. I took off my jeans, and examined the backs of my calves. Both calves sported identical, massive bruises, around four by six inches in size. The tire had rolled over my legs too, but I was in too much shock at the time to notice!