backforthmenu Body Repair. We are 10 minutes into an hour-long car ride to Orange County, on one of the busiest freeways in the United States. “Hannes, you should have never told me about that crazy car wreck scenario.” He is riding shotgun. “Huh?” he replies. I knew I would have to refresh him. “You know what I’m talking about,” I’m afraid I usually come off as irritated when I’m not really. “the one where your leg bones shoot out the bottoms of your feet when you impact something over 70mph.” “Oh yeah. That’s gross, huh?” “I can’t stop thinking about it—it’s been a week since you told me that and I cannot stop thinking about it.” “Hmmm... don’t worry, they can fix you up, no problem. My friend Mario jumped out of a four story building and they fixed him up like new.” He turns in his seat, “Remember that, Mike?” “What?” Mike has started a car nap and is genuinely irritated. “Mario.” “Who?” Mike’s dark brow furrows more than usual. Johannes turns back to me. “He broke both legs and his arm and if you saw him now you couldn’t tell. They fixed him up good.” “Let’s not talk about it and maybe we won’t jinx ourselves.” “I figure if you talk about it, there’s no way it’s going to happen.” “Thanks, Hannes, I can drive in peace now.” I look over at him. He is serious. We make it back to the office by 4:30pm. I make phone calls, Mike smokes a cigarette and Johannes skates the ramp with some of the boys. Safe for now. 11/11/98