At 2:30 p.m. on May 5, 2017, I was happily driving down the Florida Turnpike near Orlando. At 2:35 p.m., my little 2,500-pound convertible was crushed by a 56,000-pound 18-wheeler. My car and I were lifted totally off the highway (all four wheels), and the car was turned 180-degrees before I was slammed to the asphalt into eight 75-mile-an-hour spins.
Angels saved me from death twice, first when I was lifted off the ground and didn’t land on my head… then when I was heading right for the big cement wall that was the median. As I headed for that wall knowing I was about to die, an angel whispered in my ear: “Driver’s Ed.”
I remembered being taught in Driver’s Ed at 16 to “steer in the direction of the skid.” I did, and I was able to regain some control of the car within inches of that wall.
My airbags did not deploy. When I arrived at my trailer home late that night after a trip to an ER and obtaining a rental car, there was a letter in the mail from Pontiac. It was a recall for defective airbags.
I was given a Citation for driving Northbound in the Southbound Lane of the Florida Turnpike. SERIOUSLY. I managed to beat that in traffic court.
Every single disc in my neck and back is herniated or has a bulging disc or both. I have a Diastasis Recti abdominal injury. I’m totally disabled. I can no longer walk.
I have NO balance. I fall all the time, so I spend most of my time in a chair.
On a Boxing Day fall, I lost the use of my left hand. I’m a two-finger typist reduced to one finger that shakes badly.
I have half the turning radius in my neck that able-bodied folks have. I’m always in pain. My teeth have rotted out of my head due to dry mouth from medicine I take for the anxiety. I need several hundred thousand of dollars in surgery, but this has all forced me into Chapter 13 Bankruptcy. I haven’t had a good kiss for five years, and intimacy is a distant memory.
As an early Anniversary gift, Judge Jeff Ashton dismissed my case because I didn’t have an attorney. He’s a CROOK. See
I just had four more teeth extracted and have been in excruciating pain… so I won’t even be able to have Mexican food on Cinco de Mayo.
I should be in the final stages of preparing for trial where a jury should make me a multi-zillionaire. Instead, I’m preparing appeals with one finger and organizing my affairs in anticipation of death.
So, UnHappy 6th Anniversary to me.
A friend asked what is behind this:
The Defendants and the State have something to hide. I feel quite sure the Defendants paid off the Florida Highway Patrol trooper, and as some on Facebook have suggested, this may have been attempted murder. The Defendants know Judge Jeff Ashton hates my guts because I am pro se and help people who can’t afford attorneys, so the Defendants will win anything they try.  Sean Boushie, the man who shot at me and tried to kill me in Montana, is involved in this. So the plot thickens.