Quote:
Originally Posted by Mr. V
Funny you'd mention that.
The first live rock concert I saw was when I was about 14 or so: Iron Butterfly playing in the gymnasium of a high school.
What a game changer for a suburban white kid.
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When I was 16 and had just got my driver's license (1967), I took two girls and a male friend from the rental cottages next door to get the 8 track Iron Butterfly album in Laconia. We were in my "55 Oldsmobile.
It was a rainy night and In a Gada da Vida was playing loudly. We were heading north on Rt. 3, just south of Kellerhaus. There was a 1950's era brown panel van in front of us with a bunch of little girls waving at us though the back window.
From the north, coming down the hill heading south, was a white Cadillac going too fast and lost control. It slammed into the truck. I was the only other vehicle around. I pulled over and ran to the truck. The father was lying in the road screaming for someone to help his girls (6 of them).
I ran to the passenger side and with horror I'll never forget, the Mom had gone though the windshield and her head had been almost severed but she was alive. As she screamed blood came out the laceration and splattered on the windshield. I wanted to turn and run, and almost did.
In a split second I thought you'll never live with yourself if you run. Do what you gotta do. I told my friend to help the girls and I ran to Kellerhaus and told them to call for help (no 911 then and no cell phones).
When I got back to the car, the girls ad been taken out of the truck and had been put in my car. A cop had arrived and soon one ambulance for 7 people.
The cop saw the 6 girls already in my car and asked if I could drive to the ER behind the ambulance. For a 16 year old kid, who just got his license, to be driving 90 mph down Rt. 3 to LRGH was scary. The little girls sitting next to me, although covered in blood, were relatively OK. They kept asking if their parents were alright. I couldn't cry, but wanted to.
We got to LRGH and the girls were whisked away. They brought Mom in and her throat had already been stitched. She was still alive.
Then they wheeled the drunk driver of the Cadillac in with a cop interrogating him. In the middle of the interrogation the driver turned to the cop and in the middle of saying "FU", I saw him die.
The Abdo family all lived. They were from Manchester, Massachusetts.
A few weeks later I got a call from the Cadillac driver's wife's attorney who said her husband had blamed the accident on a 3rd car before he died.
I told the lawyer she had been lied to. I was the only 3rd car around.
Many months later I got a very nice letter of extraordinary "Thanks" from Mrs. Abdo (I still have it 6' near me now).
A life changing experience I wish had never happened and impossible to forget.