Back when I was about 6 years old, Dad borrowed an old pickup from a friend to haul some stuff. The old pickup had a big rip in the seat, it was a manual transmission (3 on the tree) and the passenger door didn't stay latched shut. As you can imagine, a guy with one arm has a heck of a time shifting and steering at the same time. Back then, I stood up in the seat so I could see what was going on.
We were driving through Nokomis and Dad came to a slight curve in front of Doc Spracklen's house. He was going a little too fast and as he hit the curve, he downshifted. It threw me off balance and when he grabbed the steering wheel after shifting, he jerked the truck to the left...sending me into the passenger door. It popped open and I grabbed for anything I could reach. My left hand caught the rip in the seat and my right grabbed on to the door handle. My feet were dangling out the door and every few feet they would touch the ground as I tried to keep my feet moving as fast as I could so as not to be pulled under the truck. Dad reached across and pulled my left wrist until he brought the truck to a stop. Even after the truck stopped I could just barely reach the ground. My ribs were sore from Dad trying to pull me back into the truck over the edge of the seat.
After I was able to climb back into the truck, I slammed the door shut a couple of times until it latched again. I turned around to tell Dad thanks, that's the first time I ever saw my Dad visibly shaking. I've never forgotten that beat up old green 50's model pickup nor the fact that Dad did not let me fall. We laughed about it later but it scared both of us pretty bad when it happened.
Lessons learned?? It's the first time I had realized that having only one arm was a hindrance of any kind. He couldn't steer while he held on to me...but he damn sure didn't let go!