Yesterday was the anniversary of the day Peter North and I rolled a Jeep International Scout off an 80' cliff out in Blackstar Canyon near Silverado Canyon, in Orange County, California. It happened in 1973 on the first day of Easter Vacation-I still have the headaches; Peter was so injured he was told his dream of being an ice sculptor was over. (I told him that was nonsense-use pulleys, lever-DUH! Never Ever Give Up On Your Dreams!)
Just before we went over, I heard a voice in my head say "Fasten your safety belt-NOW!" So I did. Peter wasn't wearing his, and was thrown out after a few rolls. Later Fire Rescue told us they believe he was thrown forward of the jeep, and subsequently rolled over by the tumbling jeep. That would account for the broken arms, legs, and smashed pelvis he suffered.
I stayed with the vehicle, and fully aware through the wreck-I can recount EVERY roll. End to end, side to side; I gripped the seat bottom with my hands and concentrated on keeping my face out of the windshield.
I blacked out when the car finally stopped rolling, pinned between two car sized boulders in the creek. I remember climbing out, and unhooking my lip from one of my canine teeth in the side view mirror of a derelict truck a few yards upriver.
I found Peter about half way back up the hill. He was totally out. I took up one of his arms and tried to wake him, or move him-the voice said "No, leave him, he is badly injured. You must go for help now."
I was nauseated, frightened, and quite wobbly, but I really believed the voice was that of my guardian angel, and I set off on the road to find help. The voice told me to call out for help as I walked; every time I was tempted to give up and lie down the voice urged me on.
My calls were heard by a group of what we then called Jesus Freaks. They'd come out to make an 8mm film about the ministry of the Christ.
Yeah, I DO believe in angels!