A story:



I was caught racing around Druid Drive on my friend's Honda 50, and I lost the privilege to ride motorcycles until I was 18, at which time I got a Kawasaki Mach III, holding a world speed record for a production motorcycle. I soon upgraded to a new blue 1972 Harley-Davidson XLCH Sportster, and took it with me to Knoxville, for school at UT.

Living in Knoxville, Tennessee with my new factory blue Sportster; it was several days before the crash, I crossed the Henley Street Bridge and ran that red light at East Blount Ave. The police saw me, pursued and I was forced to take Martin Mill Pike to lose him in a high speed chase on the back roads off Chapman Highway. I circled the block to come back on Martin Mill, finding him stationed in the middle of an intersection, watching me pass on by, so close I could have reached out and touched him. I did this and went back to the house where I was drummer in a band, left the bike in the back yard, and stood in the kitchen; smoking cigarettes, glad to be home.

The day before the crash, I had run that red light again, and that same police officer was nearby, and he came after me with the blue lights flashing. Thinking he didn't see me at the light, I pulled over at my turn onto West Moody Ave., not knowing I had been identified. I planned to lie about the high speed chase of the other night and hoped to go free. Sitting in the back seat of a Police Cruiser, the policeman told me that we were waiting for the Police Commissioner to come talk to me. I got ready to plead my case, but found that they were not interested in anything I had to say. Without a word, they took me downtown and directly to jail; where I spent the night, thinking about tomorrow.

The next day, the day of the crash, 4/10/1972, I found the police had scratched the gas tank on my bike; so naturally, I got mad and decided to fix everything by taking that dangerous bike ride, on the side of Cherokee Bluff. After crossing the bridge over the Tennessee River I took that first left off Alcoa Highway, onto Cherokee Trail, connected directly to the highway.

I powered it up and poured it on, just loving the sound from those stagger dual tail-pipes coming out of that grumbling V-Twin Harley engine. I accelerated up the road towards that S curve just a little too fast. Oblivious to the danger ahead, I was led me softly to the left, but coming in too fast, I drifted into the other lane. Nothing was coming, so a little bolder; I hurried on through the S, finding the second curve to be tighter, even too tight, and I was going to drift into the other lane again. But this time, there was a car coming from the other direction and I was going to crash straight into it, head-first; damn, ain't this a bitch!

Upon seeing the car, I imagined standing up on the foot-pegs to be thrown over the car and deal with the trees down on the hill down below. Later, I considered making the curve in the inside lane to miss the car, completely, but knowing there was no way, it was coming to me fast, and I couldn't stop it! Back to reality, I had come into the S curve too fast, and when leaning the bike hard to the right; my front wheel began to drag at the end of those custom extended forks after those stagger-dual tail-pipes dragged the pavement, pinning my right leg between the bike and the blacktop, sliding, head first directly towards the oncoming car. The front-wheel lagged behind, bringing the rear of the bike around to throw me over the handlebars where the strut of that four foot tall sissy-bar hammered me into the side of the car with the tip strut chipped my pelvis. Those four flimsy clamps holding the sissy-bar to the rear-fender failed, allowing it to sway back with the tip of that iron rod headed straight for my right rump. And there it hit, squarely; piercing my flesh, through to the bone, at the tip of that half-inch iron rod, deep in the flesh of my right rump.

When the bike followed me into the car, the pressure was tremendous. I don't remember any pain, or fear; just the force of the bike, as if it were alive, driving that half-inch iron rod deep into my butt against the car. And it was increasing; me, wondering if it would ever relent before it mashed me clearly into oblivion. But it did relent after piercing the flesh of my right rump, chipping my pelvis bone; compressing two vertebrae and pushing my brain stem up and into my brain, sending me to another world. Laying there by the side of the road; where the bike left me.

In my mind, I found myself by a large, dark and tall monolith with a presence of mind I wanted to know. There was a bright white light shining on the other side, as though someone was there. Me; I was crawling around on the ground, searching for anything familiar. I impatiently wanted to know how to end what seemed to be an endless search, to find myself suspended in the air, next to a dark curtain, that I called, 'a plane,' at the time with a mysterious surface; strangely familiar. It strecthed for as far as I could see. I was anxious about what was to come. After what seemed to be a long time, I was no longer there.

In agreement, I began to hear angels singing about Jesus. They were there to wake me, and tell me about Jesus. He was there, and had two questions for me. What physical injuries could I bare, thereafter; and did I want to do anything for Him.

I thought and told Jesus that I wanted to survive without any injury that would cause me to have to rely on someone else and, because of Creation vs Evolution; I wanted to discover the truth about the Creation, by the Word of God. Jesus gave me the King James Version Bible and with faith, would let me understand His interpretation, in the King James Version of the Bible. And in the fear of the LORD, was introduced to HIS six Wives of the Holy Spirits of God. I then knew I would be Ok. I would work for Jesus Christ in the KJV Bible, He would let me understand mysteries within. Elated; I was confident, had faith and did not worry.

Back at the crash-site slumped over strangely where my two vertebrae were crushed at the point just below my shoulders blades. Self-conscious, I felt as though I was being scrutinized. to determine if I was a viable choice to complete the work Jesus allowed me. All those spoke against me, and my person. There was not one consideration in my favor, except for Christ Jesus; He saw me and He saved me! Thank you, LORD Jesus Christ! Amen.

Coming to; I found a woman there, comforting me after the crash. She had been riding in a car not involved in the crash, also there were two men there, who were riding in the car I hit.

It seemed as though it took a very long time for the ambulance to arrive, but when it did; I found the people to have very poor bedside manner, with very little interest of concern for me. I wanted to demonstrate my alertness and make sure they knew to dress the wound in my butt. The wound was dressed, and forgotten about, and I worried about that.

I wanted to sit up straight, but I found that to do so, I would have to balance myself on the stub left there by the two malfunctioning vertebrae, compressed just below my shoulder blades. I found that it took some attention and concentration for me to balance there. Every time I tried, I would eventually fall off; leaving me in a slump, strange and abnormal that I could not hide. I would then have to lay back and wait for someone to pick me back up and position me on my perch, there by the side of the road; waiting for the ambulance. Hell; the hospital was only a football field away or so; what were they waiting for? I believed they were waiting on me to die, but not! Jesus said I would not die, and I believed him. I never really even considered death as an option. Anyway, I was too busy trying to sit up straight, to try and demonstrate I looked "normal," or something. But I had been severely changed, both in heart and in mind; and I knew it! I knew also that things I would have and want to say, would be difficult to address and could become hard to be believed. I was at peace with the LORD. The experience continued in the ambulance and was at the hospital when I arrived; beginning another experience, I wanted to know why.

I would see animated progressions of the development of life, deeply concerned about the open wound in my butt. I believed the wound in my butt would not get the proper attention and could cause me much pain and suffering. I considered myself a prisoner of war; I could blame no-one. I relied on Jesus to fix it for me and had faith that he would do just that. This faith came from what Jesus told me in the experience I had with him after the crash. I tried not to worry about what was going on around me, however, I was not encouraged, remembering the people at the site seemed to be unaware, even conspirators in the horror I was contemplating. The horror I was contemplating was a long ardous, exceedingly painful death, from an open gangrounous unatended infection.

Lovingly, I trusted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, and was comforted by the woman from the "experience," after the crash; who knew the reason for all this. I've yet to talk about the woman and the tree.

The scene regarding the infection was very heavy on my soul, I always looked for opportunity to break out of the isolation and tell someone, anyone; anything!?! But the opportunity never arose; there was just no one, of this earth, there to tell; and I knew it. It was as though I alone was the focus of this process for my, "final solution?"!? Pain and Death~! They all seemed willingly be ignorant of my issues, which was their method in which to accomplish this evil deed, and there seemed to be nothing I could do about it. Nevertheless, Jesus was there with me, and I felt purpose for all this. In flack, it was Jesus who told me what to do to get out of that deadly ICU, alive. Thank you, LORD Jesus!

After admitted into the UT Hospital, I remained hopeful that an opportunity would arise for me to tell someone about the wound in my butt. Sadly, the opportunity never arose, and the wound remained unattended. All I could do was listen to the conversations and watch the people around me. It appeared as though everyone willingly were ignorant of the wound in my rear, it was not mentioned.

After a few days, the wound got infected and began to hurt. I would then put myself in what the doctor called, "a spasticated movement," to try and take the weight off my butt, hoping to ease the pain. Using my left shoulder and right heel, and back of my head, I would attempt to raise my rump up off the table, while struggling to balance myself on those two of three points. I would fall off, but what was worse was that a bed-sore had developed on my heel, taking me to a whole new level of suffering. In fact, the pain from my heel became every bit as bad as the pain from my rump, and I would have to trade off on which place to use to assume my, "movement." But more often than not, I would have to lay there on my butt, using, "micro movements," to find a position that would ease the pain.

I remember being left alone, for what seemed like hours and the pain was excruciating; intense, unrelenting and unmitigated. However, what was worse was that the doctor could then say that I was having a seizure. The head injury had caused pressure to increase on my brain and needed to be vented off with open head surgery.

I was horrified! First, I couldn't understand why they could not find that gaping hole in my butt, but it enabled the doctor to call my, conscious effort to ease my pain, a seizure; and prescribe a hole in my head to vent it off. I could see no way to stop this procedure. I thought he wanted access to my brain to change things, even me! by which, I would be lost. At my wit's end, I asked Jesus what to do and He gave me what I needed, a bullet to bite on. I was reminded of a movie I had seen in which a cowboy was losing his leg in a barn. He was given, a bullet to bite on and I thought, that's it! I must bite on a bullet, right there on the place Jesus had provided for me; from birth, my lower left rear molar. Hallelujah!!!

I started biting on that "bullit," looking for the best way to use it and found that it was perfect. That tooth was just a little higher than the other teeth around it, I could apply a tremendous amount of pressure, biting down on that tooth. It was a miracle, when I got the position right, with enough pressure; all pain would cease. It put me in a euphoric state so intense that I didn't care what they did. All I wanted to do was to bite down on that tooth. Then I heard it crack, and I knew it would break off and reveal my issue, their ignorance. It broke off and I held it in my mouth until I could let someone I trusted, find it.

Later, my mother was with me and I started moving that tooth around in my mouth, banging against other teeth to see if I could get Mom to notice it. She did, the wound was dressed and the rest of my time in the UT Hospital was like party, friends from school would come to visit me and we had the best time!

The doctor said that I had too much congestion and needed to cough it up. My memory had been adversely affected and I didn't remember how to cough it up. The doctor then said I could not breathe and gave me a tracheotomy for me to breathe, but I did not need it. He would come in daily, to see if I could cough, but I couldn't cough and he would leave it in and leave. One day, I looked up and discovered that it would narrow my trachea and help me cough. I saved that cough for the doctor, tomorrow. The net day, he came in and asked me to cough. I couldn't and he was going to leave. Then, one of the nurses reminded me of my discovery of the day before. The doctor came back in and stood right in front of me; I looked up, coughed and covered that doctor with congestion from my lungs. Vindicated, the tracheotomy was removed, and I could speak. I never saw that doctor again and I could talk. However; when I got to the hospital in Chattanooga Tennessee; I found that my troubles were not over.



. 1990 ~ 2022