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Everyone's had a close call, right? I think mine was closer. It was back in 1973 and I was riding
on the outside of the Broadway local when I noticed that there wasn't enough room for me to
make it to 110 St. If I hung on, I'd hit the signal light and die, so I let go of the train and hit a
pillar at 30 m.p.h. My head didn't hit the pole, and I flew backwards like a bird that's been shot,
and splat across the tracks, I found myself. I'd landed right next to the 3rd rail and I couldn't get up!
I yelled "yo yo" and Coca-82 and Kill-1 appeared and jumped down onto the tracks. They rolled
me onto the platform like the corpse I almost was, and carried me up to Broadway to hail a Checker
cab. I was able to walk again after a day or so, and continued to run through the tunnels like nothing
happened. At last, a third of a century later, the true impact I suffered that day, has finally hit me...
