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A Writer’s Desperate Plea Paints a Horrifying Picture of What …

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  • Summary: Articles about A Writer’s Desperate Plea Paints a Horrifying Picture of What … J.C. FurnasUpdated: Jan. … the man ahead too closely, you’re gambling a few seconds against this kind of blood and agony and sudden death.

  • Match the search results: If you customarily pass without clear vision a long way ahead, make sure that every member of the party carries identification papers—it’s difficult to identify a body with its whole face bashed in or torn off. The driver is death’s favorite target. If the steering wheel holds together, …

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And sudden death… – Hagley Digital Archives

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  • Summary: Articles about And sudden death… – Hagley Digital Archives And sudden death. Date Issued. 1935-08. Author. Furnas, Joseph Chamberlain, 1905-2001. Note. Article published in Readers digest. Vol. 27, no. 160 (Aug.

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and sudden death – AbeBooks

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  • Summary: Articles about and sudden death – AbeBooks AND SUDDEN DEATH. J. C. Furnas (Joseph Chamberlain Furnas). Published by Readers Digest, 1935. Price: US$ 104.40. Convert Currency. Shipping: US$ 5.00

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Sudden Death: And How to Avoid It Paperback – Amazon.com

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  • Summary: Articles about Sudden Death: And How to Avoid It Paperback – Amazon.com Sudden Death: And How to Avoid It [J. C. Furnas, Ernest N. Smith] on Amazon.com. *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Sudden Death: And How to Avoid It.

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And sudden death; an article reprinted from the Reader’s digest.

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  • Summary: Articles about And sudden death; an article reprinted from the Reader’s digest. Get this from a library! And sudden death; an article reprinted from the Reader’s digest.. [J C Furnas]

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Sudden Death and How to Avoid it. By J.C. Furnas and Ernest …

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  • Summary: Articles about Sudden Death and How to Avoid it. By J.C. Furnas and Ernest … Author: J C Furnas. Publisher: Simon & Schuster: New York, 1935. Edition/Format: Print book : English. Rating: (not yet rated) 0 with reviews – Be the …

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AND SUDDEN DEATH by J. C. Furnas (Joseph Chamberlain …

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  • Summary: Articles about AND SUDDEN DEATH by J. C. Furnas (Joseph Chamberlain … AND SUDDEN DEATH by J. C. Furnas (Joseph Chamberlain Furnas) – 1935 – from Sage … by Reader’s Digest following the publication of Furnas’ article.

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J. C. Furnas; Writer Spanned U.S. History – Los Angeles Times

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  • Summary: Articles about J. C. Furnas; Writer Spanned U.S. History – Los Angeles Times Furnas died June 3 at his home in Stanton, N.J.. The versatile writer’s oft-reprinted magazine article, ” . . . And Sudden Death,” has been …

  • Match the search results: The versatile writer’s oft-reprinted magazine article, ” . . . And Sudden Death,” has been touted by consumer advocate Ralph Nader and helped bring about improved safety of automobiles and highways.

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Multi-read content and sudden death by j c furnas

Like the gruesome scene of a terrible car accident, the factual details of this article will make some readers nauseous. Those who feel so influenced from the outset be warned not to read the entire article as there is no disappointment in the author’s blunt handling of morbid events.

The publication of the total number of road accidents – almost a million last year with 36,000 fatalities – is never the first time drivers have recognized the appalling risks of driving. He doesn’t turn dry statistics into a bloody and painful reality.

The numbers exclude the pain and horror of barbaric mutilation – which means they ignore the problem. They need to be brought closer to home. A glimpse of a bad accident or the news that a friend was in the hospital for lunch that same week with a broken back will turn any driver into a slow-born idiot — at least temporarily. But what is needed is a living and enduring realization that every time you step on the gas, death strikes beside you, hoping for its chance. The only horrifying accident you may have witnessed isn’t an isolated horror. It happens every hour of the day, all over America. If you really feelthat,Perhaps the nature of the involvement in Monday’s newspaper report that a total of 29 locals died in accidents over the weekend will be worth a little more than a cursory lesson if you turn to the sports page.

A reckless judge sentences the occasional reckless motorist who travels the end of a city morgue crash. But even a twisted body on a slab of rock, merging the consequences of bad judgment about driving, is not a patchwork of the accident scene itself. No artist working on safe posters dares describe that in detail.

The photo must also contain motion and sound effects – the fall makes it easier for the injured person to get up; loud, rumbling noises; the steady, gasping moan of a man, pain ripping through him as the shock wore off. It will depict the languid expression on the face of a man staring in shock at the contortion of his broken leg, the frantic action of a child’s body after a bone has been crushed, a realistic portrait of a hysterical woman with her mouth screaming as a trickle of blood filled her eyes and ran out of her chin. Minor details include the intact bone tip that protrudes through the flesh in compound fractures, and a dark red, oozing surface that immediately sheds clothing and skin.

It’s the usual, everyday continuation of the modern fascination with going places in a hurry and grabbing an opportunity or two. If ghosts could be put to good use, every stretch of bad road in the United States would greet the oncoming motorist with groans and screams and the educational spectacle of ten or one. Dozens of corpses of all sizes, sexes, and ages lay motionless thereon. blood grass.

Last year, a state soldier I know stopped a big red Hispanic for speeding. Dad is clearly a man of responsibility who is clearly gearing up for a fun weekend with his family – the officer interrupted Dad’s well-fed expression: ‘I’ll give you a break this time, but if you carry on like this you won’t win for long. Keep going – but take it easy. Then a passing driver greeted the soldier and asked if the red Hispanic had a ticket. ‘No,’ said the soldier, ‘I hate to spoil their party.’ ‘Too bad you didn’t,’ said the driver, ‘I saw you stop them – and then I’m Passed this car again 50 miles from the line. It still makes me sick. The car is folded like an accordion – all that remains is the colour. They were all dead except for one of the children – and he wasn’t going to make it to the hospital. ”

Maybe it gives you a stomach ache. But unless you are a person with a serious, terminal foot disease, and if you look closely at the picture the artist would not dare paint, you are immediately familiar with the result of mixing gasoline with speed and judgment . it will be worth it. I can’t help when the truth comes out. If you have the courage to go fast and seize the moment, you must have the courage to get the right treatment. You can’t drive an ambulance or watch a doctor in a hospital work with a victim, but you can read.

Cars are dangerous, just like a cat. It’s hard to imagine that it could be the deadliest missile ever. As enthusiasts will tell you, 65 feels like nothing. But 65 per hour is 100 feet per second, a speed that places serious and absurd responsibility on human brakes and reflexes and can instantly turn that docile luxury into an elephant.

Collisions, turns or evasive maneuvers, each resulting in a stall or collision towards – and for the occupant of the vehicle – d. H. You – continue in the same direction at the original speed, on every surface and in every corner of a car’s interior immediately becomes a ripping bullet aimed straight at you – inevitably. Nothing can be said against these compelling laws of impulse.

It’s like riding a train through Niagara Falls in a steel barrel full of barbed wire. The best thing that can happen to you – and one of the rarer ones – is to get kicked out when the door opens, so you only have reasons to count on. That’s right, you attack with as much force as if you were being discardedXX centuryAt full speed. But at least you won’t be stuck with shiny metal buttons and bezels and glass inside.

In that split second of an accident, anything can happen, even those happy escapes you hear about. People stormed through the windshields and out with only superficial scratches. Driving head-to-head cars together, they both reduced them to a spiral and were found unharmed and two minutes later arguing bitterly. But death is there too – just exercising its prerogative of being moody. That spring, a train wreck pried open the door of a car that had overturned onto the embankment, walking away from the driver with a scratch on the cheek. But his mother was still inside, a piece of wood stabbing her in the brain four inches from her son, making an oily turn a little too quickly. No blood – no horribly twisted bones – just a grey-haired corpse, still clutching the wallet in her lap when she felt the car go off the road.

A month later, a light touring vehicle crashed into a tree on the same bend. In the center of the front seat, they found a nine-month-old baby surrounded by broken glass and completely unharmed. A good joke about death – but spoiled by the baby’s parents, who still sit on either side of him and are instantly killed by smashing their skulls on the console.

If you often walk forward without a clear line of sight, make sure each member of the party carries identification — it’s difficult to identify a body with a scratched or torn face. Motorists are the preferred target of death. If the steering wheel held together, it would rupture his liver or spleen, causing him to bleed internally and die. Or if the steering wheel breaks, the problem is solved immediately by the steering column rushing over his stomach.

By no means all frontal collisions happen on bends. The modern road of death would likely be a straight three-lane stretch – like the infamous Astor Flats on Albany Post Office Road, where 27 people died in a single summer month. This sudden sight of the wide and straight road tempts many normally vigilant drivers to overtake the man in front. At the same time, an oncoming driver sped away at high speed. At the last moment everyone tried to get back in line, but the gap was closed. As the lined-up cars were forced into a cap-sized ditch or crashed into a fence, passers-by almost shot into each other in a swirling and crushing blow, tilting them toward the others.

One soldier described such an accident – 5 cars screwed up, 7 died on the spot, 2 died on the way to the hospital, 2 more died long-term. He remembered it much more vividly than he had wanted—how quickly a doctor would turn from a dead person to examine a woman with a broken back; three corpses in a car so full of crankcase oil it looked like damp brown cigars and wasn’t human at all: a man walking around babbling to himself with no thought of death or death, who didn’t even know the dagger . – like a piece of steel sticking out of his flowing wrist; a beautiful girl with a bare forehead who, despite a broken hip, is trying in vain to crawl out of the ditch. A first class massacre of this kind was only a question of size and number – seven bodies no more than one. Every man, woman or child butchered that made up last year’s 36,000 corpses must die a personal death.

A car that goes straight into an embankment, crushing and crushing its occupants with every inch of its travel, can wrap itself around the trunk so thoroughly that the front and rear bumpers will need an acetylene torch to slice them out. In a recent case, they found an old woman sitting in the back, sitting on her daughter’s lap in the front, each visibly soaked in her own and the others’ blood, every piece shattered. that an autopsy was not helpful in determining whether a broken neck or heart caused the death.

Vehicle Overturned specializes in specific injuries. Examples include fractured pelvis leaving months of pain in bed, immobilization, potentially lifelong disability – fractured vertebrae from fully twisting one side – minor details such as shattered knees and shoulder blades were fractured when she crashed through the side of the car while racing in the whirlpool of a fresh roller coaster – and the fatal consequences of a broken rib, a puncture of her heart and her lungs with the ends intact. Internal bleeding is just as dangerous because the pleura is filled with blood instead of the abdominal cavity.

Flying goggles—safety goggles by no means universal—do more than contribute to the spectacular aspect of crashes. It’s more than slicing – shards are delivered like a cannonload of broken bottles hit you in the face, and a splinter in the eye moving with such force means you’ll get hurt. A leg or arm pinched by the windshield slices through veins, arteries and muscle to the bone like beef under a butcher knife, and it takes very little time before a fatal amount of blood is lost in extreme situations. Even goggles may not be completely safe if the car hits something at high speed. You’ll hear quaint tales of how a flying human body uses its head – a sticky shoulder – a glass holder – and the rough, sharp edge of the body’s cutting hole to poke a neat hole in an object, as neat as a guillotine machine.

Or, to continue with the decapitation motif, dodging into the back fence and rail can save you from immediate other injuries if a rail slams and crashes through the windshield. Rip your head with a thin end – not as clean as a job, but quite effective. Bodies are often found with their shoes and feet broken out of shape. The shoes were back on the floor, bare and the laces still neatly tied. That’s the kind of effect that modern speed creates.

But all of this is common in any American community. To be personally remembered by doctors and cops you’d have to do something crazy, like the woman smashing her head in the windshield, shards of glass flying over the other occupants of the car, and then when the car rolls over, it grinds the edge of the car down the windshield and slit her throat from ear to ear. Or park too close to a curve on the pavement at night and face a tail light when you remove your spare tire – it’ll immortalize you in someone’s memory as the 3-foot-wide crash-friend and 2-inch thick like a heavy-duty truck crash on the back of his own car. Or as original as two young men who were thrown off an open road this spring – of course – but each broke a windscreen as his head shot over and the entire upper part of each skull, which was as long as his eyebrows, was missing. Or break down a 9-inch tree and stab yourself in a jagged branch.

None of this is creepy fiction; It’s just the horrible raw material of annual statistics as seen in the usual police and doctor’s duties, randomly selected. What is surprising is that there is so little difference in the stories they tell.

It’s hard to find a surviving accident victim who can talk. Upon arrival, the sharp, stabbing pain throughout your body was explained by knowing that you had crushed both collarbones, fractured two shoulder blades, fractured your right arm in three places and fractured three ribs, probably a severe internal fracture. But the pain can’t distract you as the shock gradually wears off, not realizing you might be on your way. You can’t forget that even when they take you off the ground onto a stretcher and bite your broken ribs into your lungs and the sharp ends of your collarbones slide deep down each side of your screaming throat. When you stop screaming it all comes back – you die and hate yourself for it. It’s not fiction either. What it really feels like to be one of those 36,000 people.

And every time you take a corner out of sight, every time you hit a slippery road, every time you step on it with more force than your safe reflexes, every time you drive, your reaction slows down by one or two drinks, every time you follow the man in front too close, bet a few seconds of that blood and sudden pain and death.

Watch as the man in the white coat shakes his head at you, tells the guys with the stretcher not to disturb them, and turns away from where the others aren’t dead yet. And then slowly.

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