Article May 30, 2005 Issue

A REMARKABLE DELIVERANCE

By Garner Ames

THE DAY BEFORE Thanksgiving 2002, I decided to do some work on my car. Our home was on eight acres of land, and the building we called "the shop" was located almost a quarter-mile from the house.

Although I'm an experienced mechanic, I just wasn't thinking about what I was doing that day. I prepared to take the drive shaft out of the car by putting the back wheels up on a ramp, but I didn't set the parking brake or chock the wheels. As soon as I popped the drive shaft out, the car slipped off the back end of the ramp on top of me, pinning me at the hips to the asphalt driveway.

In those first few minutes, I went through several phases, swinging between intense pain, panicked yelling for help, and calm. I tried to lift the car off me, but realized that approach was futile—it was a Chevrolet Caprice and weighed over 4,000 pounds. I was in a situation where I couldn't physically get myself out, and I was not expecting anyone to come to the shop that day. My brothers and cousins were inside the house and could not hear my calls for help, and because they had little interest in working on cars, they weren't likely to come out to the shop. My mom, aunt, and grandparents were out shopping and not expected back soon. My dad was at work.

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