I'll come right out and say it; I believe in ghosts or guardian angels or something because I've had way too many instances when I SHOULD have kicked the bucket but something saved me by the skin of my teeth.
I was once in the middle of a ten car pile up on an icy night one February, and as I walked the middle of 290 to get to a panicked woman whose car had spun out at the crest of the hill I realized why she was panicked-- all I could see coming at us was headlights. Dozens and dozens of cars on 290 who were heading right at us at 60mph who had no clue the road was now closed off by the pileup of wrecked cars on the other side of the incline.
I was hit by a car and thrown clear over the medium strip, jumping at the last second so that I rode the skidding car back down the road before being tossed over the guard rail. Broken ribs but much better than the other people at the accident scene.
I'd also like to note my Reaganesque whit as we drive away in the ambulance and it began to spin out of control the female attendant fell on top of me, to which I said "sorry darlin, no time for that now."
Another time as an amateur mountain climber I was separated from my guide during complete white out conditions atop mount Washington one February day. Me and my buddy Jim, both of us more at home in front of a TV with some wings than climbing the largest point in the northeast got to the top on our own. Then as we admired the zero visibility we questioned how we get back down. We had climbed the last 1000 feet and it wasn't like there was a rope or a ladder, we had dug climbing holes the entire way, how do you find those?
Before we could decide Jim slipped and went over the side, sliding down a steep incline and then disappearing over a ridge. I blindly charged after him, hearing my promise to his girlfriend Diane that I was responsible for him getting back down alive. Screaming his name I soon lost my footing and soon I was rocket sledding off the side myself and through the corner of my eye I caught him hanging from a branch as I fell past him getting lodged in a bigger branch twenty feet or so lower than him and hanging upside down by my boot.
Jim offered to try and pull me up but I refused, if my boot came undone or if his hand slipped I didn't want to be cursing him out as I fell to my death. And death it would be.
Below me another twenty feet was another thick branch, past that was a tiny house less than the size of a fingernail with a little puff of smoke coming out. My plan was to do a back flip of sorts and catch that lower branch, either than or crash through that roof and hope they had a big couch.
Needless to say we got down.
Another time my Toyota was on its last legs and as I out it into gear to get onto I-290 the entire thing locked up as if I'd thrown it into park, the transmission had seized up, had it gone just one minute later my car would have been doing 60 with rush hour traffic behind me as it came to that dead stop with no brake lights to warn the dozens of cars and trucks that would likely crash into me.
It's too many things, too many times that something or someone intervenes on my behalf. I have a suspect in my dearly departed great aunt Gail but I've lost many beloved friends and relatives of late so the list could go on. Maybe it's more than one.