I took a gig in Fremont, Ca. The southern tip of the San Francisco Bay area. I was hired as the senior project manager for a large structural steel contractor.

It was the height of the Silicon Valley Boom. The company had a solid reputation, and huge projects were just being given to them in a no bid fashion. Just keep records of expenses. What could go wrong.

We were building massive campuses for Intel, Microsoft, Sun Microsystems, etc.

Projects piled up on me faster than the speed of common sense. Within a month, I was handling over 20 jobs. I had a good looking, young female assistant that was a mental case and had a thing for the V.P. So, she hung in his office all day and I had no help whatsoever. Didn’t matter how much I complained, nothing was ever done to correct it.

The allure of living in NorCal was dissipating quickly.

In the summer of 2001, the owner of the company decided to throw a big retreat at a Kampground of America in Sonoma…wine country. They rented a cabin for my family. At least 40 employees and their families were invited.

The owner had food shipped in from Maine, Kansas, and Los Angeles. Each meal was fit for Louis XIV. Pure excess. Sumptuous fare. If you didn’t have gout when you got there, you did by the time the weekend was over.

Thing was, I didn’t really like anyone I worked with. So, days were long. Really smart people have the worst neuroses.

In the family area was a poster showing that there was a small landing strip nearby. And they offered skydiving.

In my late 20’s, I began the sport. I had 79 jumps under my belt by the time of the weekend party. I was 51.

I tried to get other employees to go with me. Everyone was chicken. Except for the wife of one of the junior PM’s.

I told the VP that I was going to jump, and he wished me well. It took about 15 minutes before the owner found out and took me aside. He forbade me from going. “What if you get hurt? Who is going to handle all your jobs?”
I explained my experience, but he would have none of it and said no way. I ignored him.

The chick and I got to the airfield by mid-morning. She signed up for a tandem jump. I was going solo.

We spent 20 minutes signing waivers of liability.
We suited up. And waited our turn.

They only had a small single engine Cessna that seated 3 plus the pilot and jump master. The inside was empty except for the pilot’s seat. We were crammed in like sardines with our legs over each other’s shoulders.

It was a hot summer day and once we were at a couple of thousand feet, the air cooled off beautifully.

The woman waited for her turn on the ground since she was going tandem. I went up with two other jumpers. One was an acrobat that I thought was a crazy man. He threw himself out of the plane before the pilot had slowed the craft down in prep for the jumps. The other jumper asked if he could go along on my jump as he had just started his own video company to shoot jumps. I said fine. It cost me nothing. And I’d have a record.

The tandem jumps left the plane at 3500 feet.
The experienced jumpers got a lift to 14,000 feet. You can’t imagine the view from an open door on a tiny plane…with your feet dangling directly beneath your shrinking balls.

It was my turn and out I went. The videographer followed 2 seconds later.
Movies and TV make the jump always look like you are flying. You’re not. You are dropping like a boulder.

I loved doing the missile move where you go headfirst in freefall with your arms at your side and you accelerate to 175mph. It shortens the freefall, but oh what a rush.

Around 10,000 feet, I flattened out to enjoy the view. At 1500 feet, I pulled my ripcord.

The video jumper stayed with me just long enough to see the smile on my face. He didn’t pull his ripcord until 1000 feet so he could land first and show me landing like a feather.

Then shit went south on me. One of the cables got looped over the canopy. It caused a huge list to the right. I yanked and yanked on my right cable handle to correct the situation, but it wasn’t working.

At around 1000 feet, I used the auxiliary chute. And of course, it got tangled in the main chute. Now I was spinning like a top. I managed to unbuckle the secondary chute, and it flew free. Or so I thought. It was caught in the main canopy but managed to slow me down. I believe that saved my life.

Then the worst happened. The wind forced me into a dive bomb, headfirst, at around 60 degrees. Over and over, I yanked on the cable handles. It must have dislodged the tangle, and I slowed down as ground rush began.

I was coming down at around 35mph when I tipped forward just 100 feet from the ground and hit the ground headfirst.

I dug a 10-foot trench with my head in the soft loamy dirt.
As my head dug that tunnel, digging the trench deeper and deeper, I heard my spine contracting and actually heard the snap, crackle and pop of my vertebrae.

I was unconscious by the time I came to a stop.
I don’t remember anything after that.

I was totally covered in dirt and my body was invisible. The only thing visible was the chute and cables growing out of the dirt.

Then the video shows three employees running to my aid. Two of them dig for me and pull me off my stomach on to my back. I was lifeless. I was a corpse.
And then the video stopped.

I’m actually surprised that the jump school allowed me to have a copy of the video. Because it was 2001, it was VHS.

Every orthopedic surgeon that saw the video got whiplash at the point of me hitting the ground. Each told me surviving that hit was a miracle…let alone not being paralyzed for life.

I was told later that after I regained consciousness, I insisted on getting up. But then I collapsed and passed out again.

The next few months are a blur. I’ve blocked out the aftereffects and procedures I endured.

An ultrasound of my chest showed that my heart had turned 30 degrees to the left but did no permanent damage. I was told that if you are going to fuck up your heart, I did it the right way. It remains turned to this day.

I spent 4 years recuperating and learning to walk again. I was told by every single health professional that I’d never walk again. I was determined.

I’ve been egged on to upload my video to YouTube. I refuse. I’ve never seen anything like my accident on video or film, and this is not how I want to be remembered; as the guy who was given the gift of life in an untenable situation. No one has seen the video except for doctors and my immediate family. I intend to keep it that way. After I’m gone, I hope my daughter will not make me a YouTube freak.

I’m often asked, “So, your parachute didn’t open?” I’ve patiently explained that when you are freefalling at 125mph and your chute doesn’t open, you’re still going 125mph when you make contact with terra firma. No one survives that unless you’re Wile E. Coyote.

I went back to work 4 years after the accident. We spent our savings on medical bills and surviving. Timing is everything as the economy crashed by 2009 and I found myself being a 60-year-old engineer looking for work when there was none. It took 5 years for construction to return. We struggled. But eventually, things turned around. Do I wish I had listened to my boss? Yeah, I do. That incident changed my life forever. But regrets…that way lies madness. I’m very fortunate. I am.

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