What's the closest you've ever come to dying?

Everything else
183

I was close to death once. Actually, several times, but this is one of my more memorable times.

On a trip to the beach with a buddy of mine, my car broke down, the result of a faulty fuel pump.

This occurred in a third-world country and the car I was driving was a fully automatic, full-option Honda Accord with all the bells and whistles - everything was “electronic”, and finding parts was virtually impossible without resorting to import.

Thanks to the amount of carjackings in the region, leaving it stranded on the Pan-American highway wasn’t an option either, if I ever wanted to see the car again in one piece.

So, I managed to get hold of a mechanic wholly untrained in “electronic” cars; with myself, an wholly untrained mechanic, we figured out that the pump was clogged and no current was passing through it.

We opened the pump and cleaned it out - there was a leaf lodged inside - and got some regular lamp cord cable to wire the pump to the alternator - I think it was - this was over 11 years ago, so exact details are a bit foggy.

This I will always remember, though: Driving back, I smelled burnt rubber coming in from the air-conditioning vents. I instinctively slipped the gear to neutral and turned off the car.

My buddy and I got out of the car, and indeed, the unmistakable smell of burnt rubber was present. I got under the car, and could see the lamp wire cable had burnt all the way from the engine to within 30cm of the fuel pump, which was directly connected to a full gas tank.

I shudder to think what would have happened had I left the car running for even a second longer.

184

mmalloy, the statue of limitations had surely run out by the time you and mom heard the story!

185

Christ man you wired the fuel pump directly to the alternator without the current being rectified?!

186

Well, the polarity was reversed…

187

Christ man you wired the fuel pump directly to the alternator without the current being rectified?!

Yeah, see, all I hear when reading this is Charlie Brown’s teacher.

188

Essentially it means the voltage to the fuel pump was unregulated. You know how when you press on the gas on a car your headlights will get brighter? That’s the current changing due to the alternator putting out a higher voltage as you spin it faster. I’m surprise the fuel pump didn’t fail due to overheating, but obviously the heat of the wire burning off its insulation is indicative of there being a massive amount of current going through there. A regulator/rectifier is like a large heat sink, taking the excess unneeded current and dissipating it as heat since you don’t want more than about 14 volts running through your car’s systems. I think hooking the fuel pump up to the battery might have been a better solution.

It’d be like hooking up an iPod to a car battery to charge it! (no offense to Gary Witta)

189

Well, I did mention I wasn’t much of a mechanic at all, and the mechanic that was with me was more accustomed to repairing Soviet-era Ladas and Zastavas than fully automatic Hondas.

In any case, I’m just glad I am still able to be here typing this out.

That was also by far the longest and most expensive tow I’ve ever had to pay - the nearest Honda mechanic was a good 450km away.

Edit: Anyhow, I think that qualifies as being pretty darn close to dying.

190

Oh yeah, agreed, I just found it kind of funny. Though I’m not sure if the bigger danger was from the smothering rubber or from an eventual overheating/sparking of the fuel pump.

191

Man, I came in here all set to tell some Riveting Tales, but all I’ve got is running Looney-Tunes style through a plate glass door, and dodging a bus while crossing the street.

That last near miss did flash my life before my eyes, as the bus missed by less than a foot and maybe a quarter second, and only because I got out of the way, but apparently (thankfully!) I’ve led a quiet life compared to most of you.

Strangely, neither of those times was as terrifying as the first (and only) time I rappelled down a cliff. I’m scared of heights, and it took everything I had to walk backwards off the precipice, even though I knew it was safe. Hell, I can’t even have blood drawn because I pass out from suppressing my flight or KO-the-nurse reflex.

It’s so true that when such things happen fast time slows down, and emotions get filed for later review.

192

Jasper, thanks for reminding me. I ran across a street in front of a bus once, too.

I once lost my wallet…in Las Vegas. That’s a great way to arrange for someone to STEAL YOUR IDENTNTY.

I realized where I’d left it, and sprinted across a busy street against a yellow light.

A bus was coming across my path. The driver had obviously seen my light turn yellow and built up a head of steam, and trucked on through the intersection without slowing down as HIS light turned green (mine had turned red).

The bus honked, but didn’t brake. It might have missed me by a few inches…at the very most. I dove out of its way, shoulder-rolled over the curb, bruised the shit out of my ribs, got up and kept running.

I ended up retrieving my wallet, which had been turned into security by a lounge singer in the hotel at which I’d been (I forget which one–it was my first time in Vegas). I tipped the singer a C-note for spotting my wallet and not stealing it.

193

I haven’t really come close to death because I haven’t engaged in too many risky behaviors, or when I get in a situation where I think “this may be dangerous”, I’m pretty careful or back off from said activity. It’s why I don’t say, ride ATVs or motorcycles or base jump or join the army. There is just too much chance of injury in those activities, in my opinion. I’ve heard too many stories. They sound fun, but it’d rather decrease my chances. That being said there are always several close calls during your lifetime when you are driving, and you can’t help things like walking into a convenience store while it’s being robbed or a meteor falling on your head.

194

Boo-urns. At this point, I expected to hear any Guapo addition to this thread start with “So there I was Guapo-ing some lady, and her husband comes home…”

195
  1. Hit by a car on a skateboard.
  2. Electrical surge caused a floodlight to explode only a couple feet away from my face.
  3. Passenger in 2 car wrecks, the first being the worst – hit a parked car at 60 mph.

And the grand finale:
4. Shot in the back outside of the Spearmint Rhino in LA in 1999; hit by a stray bullet from gunfire down the street. Bullet somehow missed everything major and exited my right side, but shit, I still got shot in the back.

196

Oh, I mean , I’ve had close calls but never been injured from them, luckily.

197

Yeah, I don’t either – I don’t like unnecessary risk. I see it around me, almost like a color in the air. Except when I don’t! Hence playing chicken with the transit bus, all because I was still fuming over a freaking chess argument.

My mind was so locked in that I looked to the right, saw the bus pull in to the stop, looked to the left and saw the way clear, then took off across the street, still working out how I so could have won that argument, if only I’d said… Out of habit I looked back to the right just in time to see the bus apparently never fully stopped – and was just half a street-width away, accelerating.

Later, I reflected on how normally I would have been more patient and alert… but everyone gets caught flat footed once in a while, and denied their Dex bonus to AC. I’m just glad I took two levels in Barbarian.

198

Mightynute is rapidly becoming one of my favorite posters. Although considering the topic, I almost feel guilty for enjoying his stories as much as I am.

199

When I was twelve or thirteen, I used to ride BMX with friends around the neighborhood. We had found a great spot behind the local hospital which had been building an additional wing. The progress on the building had stalled, but the dump site for the red clay they had been using became a great spot for ramps and jumps.

After a particularly rainy couple of days and not really giving any thought about the condition (outside of just riding around a bit to see if it was stable enough to jump), I hit one jump that would give you about seven, eight feet of air. Problem was that the ground had turned into about a foot and a half of mud. I landed on the back wheel and all forward momentum stopped. The front wheel hit and the frame of my Schwynn snapped in half and I caught myself about an inch away from impailing myself through the solarplex with the top strut of the frame.

Never even occurred to me I was about three inches from death at that point, I was just pissed my frame had snapped. I had to drag the two parts of the bike back home. My mom and dad flipped. Schwynn sent me a new frame free when we took the pieces up to the local shop.

I was back to jumping as soon as I got the bike back together.

200

Which one is you?

201

How the fuck did a car end up on a skateboard???

202

I’ve been in a few minor car accidents, and have a slightly devil-may-care attitude to road crossing that’s nearly caught me a cropper a few times, but nothing more eventful than that. I feel like I’m tempting fate with the admission.

I’ll share one my grandad told me that was probably pretty much par for the course in WW2. He was the rear gunner in a Lancaster bomber. One night (I think he said late 1943, but might be wrong) he was on a sortie, and it was bitterly cold. The planes weren’t pressurised, so the temperatures used to drop incredibly low - about -35 degrees C or lower. If your bare skin touched anything, it immediately froze. It’s pitch black and pretty cloudy.

Anyway, they’ve been flying for a few hours without anything of note happening, when a Messerschmidt of some description soars up from underneath him and comes straight up behind the plane, about two hundred feet away. Apparently this is what it’s like - no warning, then whoosh and hope it wasn’t coming at you. Except it was, this time. He’d probably done about fifteen flights at this point, so he knows what to do - reports, swears and squeezes the triggers. Nothing. It’s so fucking cold the guns have frozen, and he thinks that’s the lot. The 'schmidt keeps closing, but doesn’t fire. It gets to about 25 feet away, neither of them firing, and it becomes clear that his guns have frozen up too. The German pilot salutes and peels off. My grandad was so close to him that he remembers the guy’s brand of cigarettes - it’s a long time since I’ve heard the story, and he’s been dead a few years now so I can’t check, but I think it was Camels. He says the whole exchange won’t have lasted longer than few seconds, but that it felt like forever. I can’t remember what he did after that, but presumably it went alright, as he finished a tour of thirty sorties.

He would have been about two years younger than I am when this happened. Makes you think.