Jeep Flippin….or Flippin Jeep!

We lived for a year and a half in west Tennessee. The my husband’s company saw fit to transfer him to middle Tennessee. I was thrilled because the town we were moving to was so much bigger – it had 5 traffic lights! Surely a town with 5 big traffic lights (and I don’t mean the blinking light kind – I mean bona fide red, yellow, green traffic lights) would have more to offer than a town with only one real light and a blinking yellow light! This was to be a paradise in comparison. There was a SUPER Wal-mart AND a K-Mart! The two grocery stores in town were not owned by the same people! There were more restaurant choices than Shoney’s! Oh yes, life was looking up!

The day we moved in was eventful for me. The moving van arrived. Once I was fairly certain that things were under control and that my hubby could and would finish supervising the unpacking, I decided to take my son and head to the next town. I needed to buy a stove and there was a LOWE’s there! Talk about waking up in paradise – a real chain store other than Wal-mart!

A and I hopped into our fire engine red (with a large brush grille, padded roll bar, big KC lights, lift kit and all) Jeep CJ 7, without the top or doors on, and started off for our big adventure. The house was located at the end of a gravel road with many twists, turns, ups and downs. It was a half a mile to the house nearest to ours on that road. A and I chatted as we headed down the road at a top speed of 25 mph. We topped a small rise in the road and the jeep shuddered. I looked at A, he looked at me……and I kept going – still going slow. Just then the entire front end of the jeep began to shake from side to side and I felt tendrils of panic winding their way around my brain. The jeep was out of control and heading for the ditch and woods on the side of the road. I felt it begin to tip. The next thing I knew, the jeep had rolled over onto the driver’s side, pinning my left leg under it. I couldn’t seem to get my to move either. My son was hanging over me, suspended by his seatbelt.

“You’ve got to get out”, I told A. Somehow he managed. Then he stood in the road looking at me. In my usual delicate manner I calmly directed him….”Run you little son of a……!” He’s a good boy, and he did just that – half a mile back to the house, screaming every step of the way. After hubster had called 911, he and A came back to view the carnage. I knew I was OK, because my leg and my arm hurt like hell. I figured (too many tv medical shows) that as long as I could FEEL the pain, then all was right with the world. The two of them stood there trying to talk to me and distract me. I snarled back at them in a most loving manner. Finally we heard sirens.

I saw shiny shoes. They could only belong to a Highway Patrol Officer. Sure enough….the questions began. Were you wearing your seat belt? Yes Officer Dingleberry, right now it’s wrapped around my neck. Where’s your driver’s license? In my purse. Where’s your purse? How should I know? Look for it – I’m a bit indisposed at the moment. Here it is. How old are you ma’am? Have you got my license? Yes? My age is on that – figure it out for yourself! And all I can see from my vantage point is feet.

A pity I didn’t get to see the rescue, I hear it was quite dramatic. Of course they sat around and talked about it for 20 minutes first while I was reaching out with my good arm and yanking on every pants leg in reach – Hey! Remember me? I can’t feel my leg any more!! Has it been cut off? Would somebody tell me what’s going on please?

They managed, with the help of a wrecker, a fire truck, 4 firemen, 3 paramedics, hubby, son, jaws of life, and Officer Dingleberry to raise the jeep up just enough to yank me out from under it. OW! Apparently gentleness is not part of paramedic training in Nowhere, TN. It was 100+ degrees out and sweat kept dropping off the paramedics and splashing onto my face. They did apologize for that – southern men are always polite. My leg was half cut off across the shin and my shoulder was dislocated. Some very nice older man was given the job of holding my arm in the odd angle it was jutting out at so as not to cause me more pain. He was faithful to his task and stayed glued to my arm.

I was transported to the local hospital where I met my surgeon who had 2 thumbs on one hand. Oh yes, that inspired confidence. Somehow my shoulder was snapped back into place and a bazllion stitches were put into my leg. I awoke from the anesthesia in my own little hospital bed…..with a column of ants determinedly marching across the foot in well organized columns. The nurse came to assist me with bathing. OK – so what she really did was leave me a bucket of water and some soap. Then she slung a washcloth at me from across the room. I was wondering if there were a veterinary hospital nearby that I could be transferred to. Surely these farm folk wouldn’t treat their valuable animals this way!

3 days later, I was at home and wondering how the hell I was going to climb those 30 stairs to get up to my bed. I now sport a lovely scar on my left leg, that ankle is always swollen, and I only ride in jeeps after saying a full round of prayers to every deity I’ve ever heard of. That road claimed 4 more victims while I lived there. Yes, I am thankful to now be living in the land of paved roads, concrete and antless hospitals.