Bob! Not Me! His Feet!




Summer 1986 was hot and Dry, with a capital D. The drought of '86 is mentioned in Reservoir Dogs, and on July 3 of that hot bitch (relentless bastard?) my friends Bob, Wayne and I were bored in Birmingham, Alabama. I was 19; Bob and Wayne like 22.

My mom had me at Birmingham Southern College; I was holed up in there in a dorm room on an empty already horribly unappealing traditional southern college campus. Bob and Wayne had an apartment.

I called Bob. "Hey. What are you guys doin'?"

"We're fixin' to drive up to D.C and see the fireworks." Bob said like he went every Tuesday.

For pride and controlling nature in all three of us, we set out for D.C. in two vehicles -- Bob driving the RX-7, and Wayne in his brand new Ford Ranger pickup, gray in color.

We partied and did the D.C. Go to the Mall deal, when my spoiled ass said they had me WAY too close to NYC to be able to tolerate not driving up there immediately. So after the fireworks did we set out? Or was it the next day? I know we slept in a room in D.C. at some point.

AGAIN THIS IS BOB'S WHACKED OUT DESTINY NOT MINE.

We took the Ranger the three of us. We partied all night in NYC, yada yada, and at dawn headed back to D.C.,The 5th or 6th of July, I don't know. But dawn.

Bob was in the trailer part, and we were on the Jersey Turnpike. He tapped on the glass to be let in so Wayne pulled over and Bob got into the cab with us. Wayne driving, me in the middle, and Bob in passenger seat.

My head lifted off Wayne's shoulder because he winced. I felt a tap.

Then a vaccuous buildy-uppy-of-energy type silence, then BLAM -- Horrible lane sliding on roof with further tumbling, landing upright on guardrails,

and Bob's foot is severed all but the Achilles heel. Poor bastard had somehow gently plopped onto the cement and was on his ass and elbows complaining of shoulder pain (hairline clavicle fracture); he didn't know about his foot.

Bob's story - not mine. The son of a bitch was told after they saved the foot that he'd never walk right again, or anything. He took those as literal marching orders and emerged as a champion of healing with roller blading and everything!!!

He's an old sweetheart of my best friend Susan, whom I visited just last year. GUESS THE HECK WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS POOR FINAL DESTINATION SONOFAGUN. I don't know many details, but just last year (2010) he got into a traffic accident and his other foot has been severely injured.

I've already told him I want him to be a Snap Judgement story -

I've been taking my time 'cause his dad's been sick, but yeah. Hurry up.

This man is a badass.

Bob Bombino.

Friend of mine on my facebook.

facebook.com/betsybrains

 

Wow, Mr. Glynn,

Your voice is soothing music to me. Yet your content makes my hair stand up. That, Sir, I am thankful to you for.