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This is a question Near Death Experiences II

Freddie Woo says: I was once caught right in the middle of in an early morning high-speed 30-car pile-up on the M3, but emerged from the chaos in the only car not to have suffered a dent. My trousers told a different story, and learned that you *do* empty your bowels as Death's icy grip reaches out for you. Tell us about your audition for the Final Destination films.

Suggested by Just a Vagabond

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 12:55)
Pages: Popular, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I nearly drowned in the river where they filmed Deliverance.
Wouldn't mind but I only went there to get buttfucked by some hillbillies.
(, Fri 16 May 2014, 8:03, 4 replies)
I was skiing once in Canada, off-piste in an unfamiliar area. Snow was falling and visibility wasn't great
Coming out of some trees, I managed to stop at the lip of an unexpected and large cliff. I would have put it at about 30 feet down. "Fuck", I thought, "there's no way I'm jumping off that. I'll just have to boot track back up a bit and look for another way down". However, as I clicked out of my right ski, I lost my balance, fell, and slid backwards headfirst off the cliff and plummeted. As I extracted myself from the cumquat may shaped hole I'd piledrived in the snow, and discovered that my torso and appendages all seemed remarkably intact, I was overcome with the feeling of being both incredibly fortunate and incredibly stupid at the same time. My ski even had had the decency to land next to me.
(, Fri 16 May 2014, 7:28, Reply)
Even on Russian dashcam footage, no one ever survives a second fishtail
I was driving towards the crest of a bridge over a river, behind a big rig moving slowly in the center lane. A lane ahead was closed for construction. A car rocketed past, and caught by surprise by the lane closure, tried to quickly change lanes between the truck and myself. He lost control, and fishtailed facing left, in an screeching skid across the entire highway, ripping years of rubber right off in furious smoke. I thought for sure I was going to T-Bone his car a very short distance ahead, and thought "he's gonna flip; he's gotta flip!, why doesn't he flip?"

His car didn't flip, though - it had a low center of gravity - and the tires took the entire, brutal punishment. Instead, he fishtailed again, facing right this time, exposing his other side to another possible T-Bone. I finally stopped dead on the highway, but he righted himself and sped away, trying once again to get around that damned truck! WTF?
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 23:34, Reply)
Bike crash
Dark night.
On a bike path going home.
Sudden glare of a 125cc scooter going the wrong way and on a path that is verboden to him.
He does not even try to do anything to avoid the impact.
I turn, braking is futile, but only manage to partially avoid him.

I go "through" the front of scooter but my leg catches the steering column.
Breaking it.

I bounce off, over a curb into the path a Range that stops inches from me.

My bike is flung about 20m for the impact... Twisted and the fork broken. The two wheels bent like sick pretzels.

Cue to the insurance not wishing to prosecute the case on my behalf.

Still angry.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 20:24, 13 replies)

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 20:10, 10 replies)
Paper cuts
They really do smart.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 20:04, 3 replies)
18. Old enough to drive. With use of car. Reasonably proficient with a screwdriver. Temporarily employed as an electricians mate.
Mainly because I had a car and his was off the road and he had a job to do at Bruntingthorpe airfield. 60 miles away.

£25 a day for two days' work in 1989 seemed OK to me, so we drove over and he surveyed the job- wiring up portakabins to a distribution board for mains, fed by an Aggreko 50kW diesel 3-phase genset.

Natch, as the 'mate' I got the casual unpleasant jobs, such as attaching the earth strap from the toilet block to the earth rod next to where the shitty sewer water was leaking out of the toilet cabin greywater pipe. I also had to hand tools back and forth like an operating theatre nurse and crimp twin-and-earth wires to eyelets but it was all jolly and new and exciting to me. We even had the fun of two A-10 tankbusters lazily mock-dogfighting in the air above the airfield and wondered if my Mini Metro was being practice-targeted for missile-death by the pilots. That wasn't the near death experience.

Once all the cabins were wired up to the electrician's satisfaction, the last task was at the distribution cabinet- three phase bus bars with the spurs bolted on, the electrician suggested the last thing we need to to is the 'Bottle test'. 'Can you just ratchet up the tension on the earth bus bar nut while I check the generator?'

OK, I did so. Metal ratchet driver, metal bar, conductive path but Earth, so surely safe enough. *Applies tool, starts ratcheting. Leaning forward, cabinet open, three phase bus bars 6 inches from my forehead as I lean down to tighten the earth bolt. Still, it's not electrified.

As I ratcheted up I heard a loud sooty splutter and then the sound of the generator starting up and settling at idle speed.

SHIT I am 6 inches away from live 3-phase electricity, 415 Volts, if I fall forwards into this open cabinet I will be toast, charcoal, cardiac arrest and I didn't even get laid......

Muscles locked in fear- back away, back away, take hands gently off metal ratchet driver still connected to earth bus bar and back away...back away....8 feet away SAFE.....oh hell. OH HELL I NEARLY JUST DIED.

Electrician came back over round the back of the generator with a jovial smile on his face.

'I only started the genny, I didn't cut in the breakers! That's why they call it the bottle test! See how you react!'

*Apparently I should have known because the note of the engine exhaust would have gone from a steady 1500rpm to 1200rpm under load had the breakers actually have been cut in.

So I thought I nearly died but for the mercy of a pranking electrician, I wasn't actually close.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 19:59, Reply)
I once stood next to a bloke with a hearing aid. It was alright.

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 18:51, 6 replies)
I've been in a car with Baldmonkey.

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 18:30, 6 replies)
I once worked at a Champagne vineyard and bottling plant in New Zealand. It was about 1% as glamorous as it sounds.

One day I was operating the 'thing that applies the stickers to the bottles' machine when the fork lift truck driver called me over...'Hey, could you just check what's in this pallet for me?'

I thought 'lazy cunt, can't be arsed to get out and walk the 3 yards it would take to do it himself.', but did it anyway as I'd been standing there staring at bottles slowly clink past for about 3 hours and a change is as good as a rest.

I stepped in front of the fork lift, looked up and confirmed that yes, they were the gold foiled bottles and yes, he was putting them in the right rack. I then stepped up to the side of the vehicle to tell him this when there was a massive bang as the hydraulic hose disintegrated, hundreds of bottles of fizzy wine in a wooden box on top of two metal forks suddenly had no defence against gravity and slammed about 15 feet into the ground.

Imagine a big fuck off sized party popper, but instead of being full of tissue paper and powered by a pinch of gunpowder it was full of glass bottles and powered by the pressurised liquid they contained. There was a massive cone of destruction projected out the front of the pallet as it hit the ground that would have shredded the flesh from my bones if I had stayed standing there for another 6 seconds.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 18:12, 33 replies)
QOTW is so shit that old questions are being repeated. This story made me laugh today so I thought I would share it here. It is not my story and has fuck all to do with this QOTW question.

"What is your most awkward "I thought I/we were alone" story?"

Forgot my towel right before taking a shower. Ran downstairs naked to get fresh one from the dryer which was running (fuck yeah). I run up the stairs on all fours coughing, "Gollum! GOLLUM!" Almost to the top, roommate's gf leaning over bannister looking at me, very confused.

I do weird stuff when I think I'm alone.

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 17:30, 5 replies)
drivel alert
My neighbour knocked on my door, furious that I'd left some of my home-grown vegetables for him on his doorstep without washing them first, saying that they were so dirty he'd kill me if I didn't clean them for him straight away.

That was my near death ex-pea rinse.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 17:00, 1 reply)
Almost drowned by a Raleigh Grifter
Aged about 12 in the mid 80s I was coming home for tea riding my red Grifter (the tractor of the UK BMX world) and hoping it was Findus Crispy Pancakes and chips on the table. As I dexterously cycled up the narrow garden path to the shed (no doubt humming the theme to Kickstart in my head) I went to put my foot down on the low, half finished wall to the fish pond my Dad had just finished digging and filling.... and then everything went hazy.

Next thing I know I'm dripping wet stood beside the pond with my Mum shouting from a window as I tried to lift the bike out of the water.
It took two of us as it was upside down with the Grifter's massive handlebars firmly wedged across the bottom of the pond.
To this day I can't work out how I got out from underneath it.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 16:50, 6 replies)
I was driving on the M1* in my BMW 535i M sport and a car behind suddenly lost control suffering a tyre blowout and probable loss of beading. I was
doing about 115mph on my Z rated tyres, I imagine his tyres on a Vauxhall Nova are probably P or summat.

* It was the M6, but I wanted to be topical.

ps. The Nova did not launch itself across the motorway.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 16:11, 13 replies)
I can't believe
the vending machine otter didn't win. That was one clever otter. Poor cunt, destined to a life of slavery.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 15:38, 5 replies)
Has anyone said QOTW yet?
Prime candidate for "nearly dead" surely.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 15:19, 4 replies)
A bum rap
The sun didn't often shine in Northern Ireland back in the 80s. I was 17 before I saw a patch of blue sky and the whole country came to a stop in 1986 to stare in awe at a big shiny light in the sky, which appeared one day and vanished the next. On the rare occasions when the place wasn't a dull, miserable hole, a surge of youthful vigour surged through my pipecleaner limbs and I'd scuttle about, looking like Timmy Mallett and feeling like Brian Jacks.

On my way to school there was an old, wrought iron fence which typically required me to drag open a rusted old gate to pass. But on one such sunny day, I was an unstoppable God and by Jove, I would vault this fence!

With barely a run up, I threw myself up, up into the sky. Daley Thomson had nothing on me. My power was unmatched! Until my heel caught the top of the damned thing, of course.

My forward momentum was stalled and I hung in the air like a mewling clothes horse before plummeting to the earth, screeching all the way down. Luckily the air was soon knocked out of me and my girlish trills were replaced by a faint gasping wheeze, which did restore a smidge of macho dignity. This dignity lasted as long as it took for me to realise that I could neither breathe nor move my arms to any great extent. These were both activities that I was greatly fond of.

It turns out, you see, that iron masons, when called on to do decorative work would often top a boring old fence with some tasteful spikes. The cunning artificer who'd built "my" fence had adorned it with an entertaining array of penile extrusions, several of which had pierced the back of my leather jacket, leaving me dangling like Cicero's scrotum.

It was obvious that I couldn't stay there all day. What if I were seen!? So I spent a few minutes wriggling and squirming in increasingly desperate attempts to get free. Finally, I was able to succumb to gravitu and I lay on the cool earth, bemoaning the loss of my lovely coat. After stumbling, humbled to school, the full gravity of the scenarion was made clear to me when my good friend Neil said "Ha ha ha, imagine if one of thsoe spikes had gone right up your arse!"

I was -this- close to being an involuntary gayer and / or bleeding to death from a shocking anal wound. (Is there any other kind?)

As it turns out, Neil spent a lot of time thinking about things going up bums, which explains why he didn't get off with Emma Jacobs and I did. So it all worked out well in the end.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 15:14, 8 replies)
From the last time this question was asked...
Motorway Madness

September 1995...

Bombing it up the M1 back to uni in Leeds. Junctions 1 to 46 - 180 miles of pure, pristine tarmac. Fast lane all the way. 19yrs old, overtaking any motherfucking thing that moved. Averaging 115mph. Speed cameras still a thing of the future. Had to beat my record. London to Leeds. Last done in 2hrs 24min.

New motor. 'G' reg Daihatsu Charade GTTi. Pioneer headgear. Alpines embedded in the parcel shelf. Sub-woofer taking up most of the boot. 300w amp drilled under the passenger seat. 'Retrospective of House 91-95' rinsing through that system. "To the beat of the drum. Bang! To the beat of drum. Bang Bang!"

And me. Lit Marlboro Red hanging from my lips. Shades on. Desperate to return. Desperate get back to 'Back to Basics'. 'Vague'. 'Hardtimes'. Party time!

Like I said. Daihatsu Charade Gtti. Hottest hatch around. A twin-turbo monster that flew. Only 998cc under the bonnet. Genius quirk of Japanese engineering. That thing would never get made today.

I'm in the zone. Red-line all of the way. Leaning forward on my seat. Flashing my lights. Burning up coaches and caravans. If I'd seen myself today, would have called the police.

And then. From nowhere. An almighty. A colossal. A world-ending sonic BOOM smashed into my ear drums.

Sound barrier being broken? No.

Bass-bin blowing up? No.

Front left tyre exploding at 120mph? Yes.

Then everything went quiet. Tunes faded into the background. I knew I was having an accident. I registered that. Part of me fought with the steering wheel. Part of me tried to push all three pedals at the same time. And a bigger part of me braced himself and awaited the immense, inevitable pain, that was certain to follow.

The car turned. Yanked left out of the fast lane in a blur of screeching metal and burned rubber. In milliseconds the rear end had flipped out to the right. And for one perfect moment. For one clear as day, intoxicatingly frightening moment, I was facing the wrong way down the M1. Oncoming traffic seemingly inches away. I swear I caught the eye of a gobsmacked HGV driver.

Then time caught up with me. The Daihatsu had continued it's arc across all three lanes. As quickly as it had started, I'd spun a full 360 and was facing the correct way again. But this time skidding sideways at a terrifying rate. Towards the hard shoulder. Towards the trees. Towards the ditches. Towards the pain.

And then it was over. I was facing forward. Car not upside down. Just wedged at the far left of the hard shoulder, slightly in drainage ditch. The huge metal posts of a motorway sign just inches in front of me. The hard as fuck trunk of a mammoth fir tree just inches behind me.

Soon. I don't know how long it took. But soon a cop car had pulled up ahead of me. Light's flashing. The officers jumped out and sprinted over. They pulled open the door. They could not believe I was unharmed.

'Saw the whole thing,' jabbered one of them, 'we were ready to call in the air-ambulance. Would've bet my salary you were a gonna!'

The other one looked me up and down.

'Do you know you've got a fag burning a hole in your jeans?'

He was right. My Marlboro had been happily smouldering in my crotch for god knows how long. Jeans were burned through. Yet I felt nothing. Must have been the adrenaline. But that's when I broke down. Tried to get out the car and dust the fag butt off. I didn't make it. Fainted there and then on the hard shoulder.

Came round in the back of an ambulance. The coppers had changed my tyre. Was soon on my way again. Classic FM and never topping 60.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 14:34, 38 replies)
One of Dr. Shambo's home made pizzas!!!
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 14:26, 12 replies)
I haven't even had one near death experience, let alone "II". This is shit.
Have an otter playing dead experience:

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 13:58, 4 replies)
Is that banjo music I hear?
A warm, sunny day and a couple of Electric Woodbines all conspired to make a walk in the woods seem like a fine idea. What better way to relax than the gentle susurrus of the wind in the leaves, the distant call of the woodpigeon, and the caressing warmth of dappled sunlight on my pale and jaded skin?

So I set off, up a tree-lined path which started near my house. As I approached the main body of the woods, I became aware of some unusual noises ahead. A couple of cracks, or perhaps bangs. What could that be? A pleasant puzzle to idly mull over, as I strolled along. A puzzle which was suddenly and brutally resolved as I reached the woods, as two guys appeared, one each side of the gate, carrying shotguns. Well, some kind of gun, anyway -- this being the UK, I'm hardly an expert. They were rather scruffy, and looked a bit surly, but being English I did what we always do when faced with a situation we don't know how to handle - I ignored it and hoped it would go away. So I continued on, walking between them through the gate, essentially ignoring them even though I was acutely aware of them staring at me.

As they passed out of sight behind me, I heard the one sound you really don't want to hear in this situation: a gun being pumped and a round chambered. But still I pressed on, walking normally and turning onto the main path, expecting a blast of buckshot to violate my flesh at any moment. My heart was pumping and my brain screaming, but as the seconds dragged past I began to think I had, perhaps, made it.

Until a third man stepped out of the bushes directly in front of me, swinging what looked like a motorcycle chain and smacking it into his hand rhytmically.

This, apparently, was it. I was about to be beaten to a bloody pulp, or perhaps strung up and used as target practice - or worse - by these three armed thugs. My heart was pounding like a Gabba fan on a three-day amyl frenzy, and my vision was starting to tunnel. I think I continued stumbling forward merely because the signals from my brain were completely scrambled by the abject, bowel-loosening terror of immanent, painful death.

...which, of course, never came. The guy with the chain turned out to be walking his dog, and the lads with the guns - which were probably air-guns, truth be told - wandered off down the path. I have no memory of getting back home, but I think I hid under the duvet for some hours, muttering to myself.

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 13:40, 1 reply)
I once went to a shop and there was someone dressed as a baddie from Star Wars and that was my near Darth experience.

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 13:38, 2 replies)
I was reading something about this last week. It's all bullshit.
Turns out something like 40% of people who report all the white lights and floating along a tunnel bollocks were never in any danger of dying from their condition anyway.

They didn't die, and come back to life. They got better.

So, there it is. Can we have a proper question now?
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 13:35, 1 reply)
If you're going to have a shed, have a fucking big one.

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 13:16, 5 replies)
Or even fourth.

Fuck it. Time for a brew.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 13:10, Reply)
I almost suffocated whilst eating yoghurt with a spoon.
I use a fork now.
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 13:10, 2 replies)
Nearly suffocated in an Otters poon
Never try to orally subjugate a water-dwelling mammal :0(
(, Thu 15 May 2014, 13:03, Reply)
i can't believe you've censored all the lovely otters from last week's popular page

(, Thu 15 May 2014, 13:03, 12 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 3, 2, 1