This is a recent photo of my father.  In this photo you can see how his right arm is up against his chest.  It pretty much stays in this postion all the time.  It is like this due to the drunk driver that disabled him when he was 8 months old.

Terror of Drunk Drivers

Drunk drivers are like cancer.  Anyone you talk to can tell you how in some way they are affected by drunk drivers.  I learned about drunk drivers very early in life.  I know first hand how their deeds have a long lasting affect.

It was Saturday Sept 10, 1936.  My grandfather had spent the week holding a gospel meeting up in Tennessee.  He and his wife and my 8 month old father had been traveling all day in their Model A.  There were no interstates back then and top speed was just under 40 mph.  They only had 70 miles left to get home.

To entertain themselves on this long drive, they had spent the day singing gospel songs.  There were no seat belts and no car seats back then.  My father was sitting right beside my grandmother.  They had just passed through what is now the very little community of Curtis, AR.  Highway 67 is very straight for the next few miles with hills. 

They could see a car coming the other way, but there was nothing suspicious about it.  They met this car right after crossing a short bridge.  The man in the other car was heading home.  He had been drinking all day while at his office.  The moment before they met on that highway he went off the road just a little bit.  He felt the tire go off of the pavement and when he turned back that tire came against the lip of the pavement and gave him some trouble getting back on the road.  This is why he suddenly jerked the wheel and ended up hitting my Granny and Pappy head on.

Since both cars were doing about 35 mph, that makes for an impact of 70 mph.  My Pappy had glass all in his face around his eyes and this gave him trouble seeing.  My Granny was the first to realize that my father was not in the car.  When others arrived they found her wandering around looking for him. 

My father was thrown through the windshield.  The blood mark where he slid on his right leg and arm measured about 100 feet.  They were very surprised to find him still alive. 

They could tell right away that the nearest hospital that could deal with his injuries was in Shreveport, LA.  That was 140 miles away.  His right arm and leg were shattered and his skull was cracked open with his brain exposed just behind his left temple.  No one expected him to live long enough to make it to the hospital. 

He arrived at the hospital sometime the next morning.  They worked on him the rest of the day expecting him to die at any moment.  The next day my Granny and Pappy were told that they had done all they could and he was not expected to live through the week.

When he was released from the hospital my grandparents were told they should not expect him to develop like other boys and not to expect him to live more than another year.   Through the next few years my father had to have surgery to help him have more muscle in his right leg.  During these visits to the hospital he was treated as if he was terminally ill.  He took his first unaided steps when he was two years old.

My father did not suffer any problems mentally and was able to enter grade school with all the other kids.  My grandparents were told at this time that he could still have unknown brain injuries that would most likely end his life before he turned twenty one. 

My father will be 75 this coming November.  He lettered in basketball every year of high school and played basketball in college.  He was very good at basketball even though he barely has the use of his right arm and because of his right leg, he tended to lope instead of run.  He was great at using that right arm like a whip to knock the ball out of the opponents hands.

My father may have been able to do lots of things, but not everything and being crippled had an affect on how he handled other people.  It’s a good thing that he became a preacher and a librarian. 

Last year he woke up one morning and found that he had gone blind in his left eye.  When they did a cat scan they discovered that his optic nerve was surrounded by thick pieces of solidified blood.  This blood was from that accident from long ago.

The last year that I was in the army I was stationed at Ft Stewart, GA.  I was still married at that time and my x-wife had a part time job as a waitress at a strip club.  She made good tips there just serving drinks.  It was December 12, 1995 and she was on her way home that Sunday morning at about 2 am.  She was driving our newly purchased GMC Eagle wagon.  The road she was on had four lanes and she was in the far right lane.  That lane ended at the dirt road that headed out to where we lived. 

A soldier and his wife had been out celebrating her 21st birthday.  They had been drinking.  They realized that they had passed the road that goes to the babysitters house and decided to use a fast food restaurant to turn around in.  They went from their farthest right lane across the highway and hit my wife head on. 

Just before three am I received a phone call from the police.  They informed me that she had been in an accident and was on her way to the military hospital on base.  That phone call seemed so unreal.  It took a moment to take it in.  Then I had to get up and wake up our son.  He was about six years old at that time. 

To get to the hospital I had to go right past the accident.  That was not a good sight to see.  Both vehicles were totaled, but the wagon’s damage could be seen all down the driver side. 

It is a good thing that I worked at a hospital for six years as an orderly.  I did some of that work in the ER.  So I knew to be patient when I got there.  I did not feel like being patient.  I got there about 4:30am and didn’t get to see her till after 7am.  They did tell me that she was fine and they were preparing her for surgery on her kneecap.  It had been split in two.  Her left hand had slipped off the steering and her pointer finger had almost been cut off when her hand went into the dashboard.  I was told she was alive because she was wearing her seat belt. 

When we finally were able to go in and see her I think they had given her something, cause she was smiling.  She has a very low tolerance for pain and bad situations.  She told me first about her finger and how she had intended to tell that guy off and when she brought up her hand to point her finger at him she saw that the tip of her finger was hanging off.  She froze staring at it.

I called her mother right after I saw her.  I never want to go through that phone call again.  It was easier to tell my son we had to go to the hospital because his mother was in a wreck than to tell a mother that the daughter I’m supposed to keep safe was put in the hospital by a drunk driver.  Just writing this paragraph made me feel that all over again.  I might just shed a tear again.

I and many other do not think highly of my x-wife.  I will say this.  She did not deserve having to go through all of this.  She spent the next two weeks learning to walk all over again. 

I spoke with the Captain of my unit about what can be done to cut down on all the drunk driving that happens on bases.  He told me that it would take generations to get this terrible habit broken since getting drunk and out of control has pretty much been accepted for centuries.

Up until this time, I had done some drinking.  I had only done so at parties where I didn’t have to drive home or at home late in the evening.  I do not drink beer.  It tastes like it isn’t done yet.  I have never in my life drank and then driven.  I have even used drinking as an excuse to get out of helping someone move stuff with the truck I had.  I’ve used this excuse even when I had not been drinking.  I didn’t drink for months after this incident.

I thought the stress of living with my crippled father all my life was good preparation.  There is nothing that can prepare you to live with someone who has had a normal healthy life, who suddenly is disabled for the rest of their life.  She still admits that after 14 years it is still a strain on her life. 

I have told these stories over and over.  This is the first time for me to write them down.  I once told these while I was out on the road and stuck at a terminal waiting for my truck to get out of the shop.  I had a co-driver at that time and he sat there listening to every word and agreeing with me that something must be done about drunk drivers.

Our next load after the truck got out of the shop took us through Arkansas and once we got to where I lived, we had enough time on hand to wait over 24 hours before heading on down to Texas.  I had a place to keep the trailer and after he dropped me off, he drove the truck home.  He had room to park the truck there. 

He was supposed to pick me up the next day at 3 pm.  He had not arrived by 4 pm and I began to call.  I did not get an answer until 7 pm.  He sounded drunk over the phone.  All he could say was that the truck had been impounded.  I didn’t ask for detail.  I told him, I would call dispatch.  I did so and found out that he had been pulled over for driving the truck drunk and that they needed me to go get the truck out of impound.  I was in disbelief.  He had heard all of what I have written her and knew how I feel that drunk drivers are some of the worst people on earth. 

My disgust for drunk drivers will never go away.  I don’t want it to go away.  To me they are a terror.  Or should I say the Terrorist of our highways.

Since that fateful day that my x-wife was hit, the laws have been changing.  There are now more and more people in prison for killing people by DUI.  I had a prison pen pal earlier this decade.  She was in for selling drugs and had no problem admitting what she did.  More than once she would write about problems in the prison caused by people that were there for DUI Manslaughter.  The people that cause the most trouble in prison are the ones that believe they do not belong there.  Drunk drivers are the worst at not understanding that they have done something wrong.

What is it going to take to clear the highways of these terrorist?  It will take every one of us.  We cannot lay aside and be quiet.  This could take a lifetime. 

More of my Writing:

*  Big Tornado
*  All Men have Baggage
*  Pappy’s Wreck