Episode 2, Part 1: Broken Carts, Broken Legs, Broken Heads?

Brandon Strellis

22 Jul 2025 — 5 min read

A troubled sky looms ahead... (link)

Last episode, we learned that I had survived my 26th scrape with Death, and once again simply out-lucked him. Let's now go back to my first near-death experience and its strange aftermath.

I was 12 years old. My sister and I were visiting our estranged grandfather at his ranch in the hills above San Jose, CA. She and I set out together one evening to tour the property on the souped-up golf cart my grandpa used as his trusted steed.

The tires were bare, the hills steep, the surface slippery. Every time we were going downhill, the cart would accelerate rapidly, but if I pressed the brake too hard, the wheels would lock up and we would start to slide out of control. If I didn't depress the brake to the lock up position, the cart kept accelerating, which, ironically, also caused it to slide out of control, but starting at a higher speed.

We tentatively made it over a couple of hills, but it was clear that driving the cart required more skill than I currently had. Disaster was staring us in the face.

Going down the next hill, we started another slide. I avoided locking the brakes, but I couldn't stop the slide. We were hurtling towards a fifteen foot embankment. We were going too fast to make the turn. We were going to fly off the road.

I kicked my sister out of the passenger seat with my right leg just as we hit the edge of the embankment. She landed on the road and then tumbled down the embankment, breaking her leg in the process.

I flew off of the embankment, still at the wheel, and then heard a voice – my voice, but my voice as a man, not a child – telling me that I would have to jump for it. And so I did.

As the cart nosedived, I planted my feet on the dash and leapt up and out of the open back of the cart. I looked to my right as I sailed through the air and saw that I was as high as the top of an ancient oak.

I fell sickeningly fast. I thought I would be able to control my fall and roll as I landed, but I hit the ground at such speed that my legs immediately collapsed. I crashed and rolled down the hill, finally stopping myself by grabbing at handfuls of dry grass.

I lay facing the cart, which now came tumbling end-over-end towards me. I was too weak to move. The cart slammed down inches from my head. I raised my arm feebly to protect myself. It tumbled over me, scratching my arm, leaving a thin scar that still remains. The cart came to rest upside-down a further ten yards away, the wheels still spinning.

For some time, I laid in the sun, unable to move, while an active debate went on in my mind. Should I die? Again I heard voices – different voices, but all of them mine, from different points in my past and would-be future. A congress of Brandons, debating life or death.

The voices of my other selves said that if I chose to keep going, I would have thirty years of suffering... At least.

That didn't sound good. Perhaps, I should just kick the bucket? Even at that age, with only a few years of dark thoughts behind me, I was not necessarily opposed to dying. It sounded peaceful.

I became aware that I didn't know what had happened to my sister after I kicked her out of the cart.

What happened to Syd? I asked.

The voices couldn't tell me.

I have to get up! I said.

I had to check on my sister. I hadn't heard any sounds since the crash. Had she been killed? How long had I been laying there? I had been floating in a semi-dream state, but now fear brought me back to the hillside and the wreckage of the cart.

I could not die without checking on my sister first! I struggled to my feet. I couldn't see her. My skin prickled with the horrible prospect of finding her dead.

It would be my fault! Why didn't I just stop and walk back instead of trying to continue on?!

I started shouting. "Syd! Syd!"

I heard her call back. I had become disoriented after the crash and was looking in the wrong direction. I found her sitting upright with her legs out in front of her.

I started walking towards her and realized that something was wrong with my foot. I could barely put weight on it.

She said she was okay, but couldn't stand up. I left her there and went to get help, hopping on one foot the mile back to the house. The cattle guards at the gates proved particularly challenging for a frantic one-legged hop.

My sister's leg was broken, but the skin hadn't broken and it wasn't bent at an odd angle. You couldn't tell with a visual inspection that it was broken. She wouldn't get it looked at until five days later. She spent the interim, including a flight from San Francisco to Dallas, with no painkillers. That's a tough kid.

I never returned to my grandpa's ranch.

*** Takeaways ***

If you feel out of control, stop.

This is true if you're a kid in the San Jose hills driving a cart or a backpacker in Vietnam renting a moped. Just stop. Don't risk an accident by trying to get the vehicle back. Walk back.

This is true beyond just driving.