"In 1978, my buddy and I were on our way to a keg party out in the 'dobes one night. He had his Mom's '75 Cutlass S, a baby blue beauty with blue and white interior and a white half-top. Gravel roads and Saturday nights are usually a bad combination. This night was no exception. We're coming up on a decreasing-radius turn at way-too-fast of speed when we went off the embankment, plunging 60 feet down to the ravine below. After the dust settled, I had scraped my head and arm up really bad,…"
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