Virtually on top of the right hand bend and like being woken into a nightmare the driver suddenly realizes where he is and what he is doing. Whatever was controlling him and senses, right now meant nothing to him or me because to our immediate front illuminated by the car lights are three power polls and one of those was very fat. The leading power poll, our powerpoll of destiny had been tactfully placed there to prevent the tank like cars of the 1960s to 1980s from ever breaking them.

A lightweight Japa had no chance and with certainty would have been the one with engine now sitting in the boot. Days later I was visited by the local policeman, and he had said the clean-up crew which are the local fireman were simply mystified not just by the site of the car and with no dead bodies to peel off the dash, but after finding the drive shaft no less than 100 meters from the powerpoll and accident.

Not making any difference, he doesn’t slam on the brakes or even lift from the accelerator, he just manages to scream while premeturely bracing for impact by shielding his eyes and head, with forearms.

I yelled to him ‘try’, as my right arm snaps across the top of the steering wheel, in a desperation I had tried to point the car the way of the bend. Going so fast the rear did as I would have expected when jerked to pass the car which is now directly in our rear with front row seats for spectating an high speed accident. The rear end flicked off the rear tires and like an excellerated swing, swings round into the leading power poll. My head turned into the swing and eyes flashed seeing the power poll inches from my left shoulder and during connection. The powerpoll had made a muffled tink sound on contact and i could see a deep grey in the thin spliters of its side.

Luck for many following cause and effects but number 3. It hit right beside the latch, an inch-to-inch half from my left shoulder and equally important, immediately tearing the latch from the door lock. I am suddenly thrown left out of the car and ironically making for my own space to live outside the accident. On contact my left wrist breaks on the door and the door without a latch is flung open, and I feel my body flung with it like a missile until the seatbelt snaps. I don’t know, maybe it did not snap but only wound out fully extended. The snap was felt with a ferocious force and luck number 4 executed.

If it did not snap at distance my body could not have found the final resting place as it was. If it snapped on time or as the seat belts should, I may have been held more in a space which no longer existed because of the nature of the stretched and crushed roof. Going from 94 miles per hour plus, to zero felt on the width of a two-inch belt. My feet flashed before my eyes up against the night darkened sky.

I came too when stationary, my back to the seat and roof inches from my face while both of my feet are flat on the ground outside the car. Without asking myself is anything broke or am I still in one piece, a movie buff me just said, “It’s going to blow”. I panicked while ferocious wrestling and unable to simply find the latch to the seatbelt. Confused at the constraints and awkwardness to just leave I am suddenly relieved to walk away.

Instantly I am confronted by the driver of the spectator’s car who is frantically asking, “are you alright”. Moments later when calmed by the fact nobody was dead or severely injured the driver then described to me the accident from his front seat view.

His first description I responded by saying ‘that’s impossible.’ I asked him to describe it again because even in a weiry shocked state I was sure he'd lost his marbles. From the point of seeing my feet against the sky to final resting position I had blacked out. In those moments his account sounded only a miracle. He had said we had catapulted round the power poll, sending us down the side of the road, and bounced off the ground three times with three 360 flips.