In my 20s I had somehow acquired a nearly-new car. A year later I was in a horrible job and a share house which partied pretty much constantly. All my money went on drugs and alcohol. The brake pads on my car ran down. I just used the gearbox and handbrake to slow the car down and kept spending money on party drugs.

One day I was punching cones and waxing the car. I’d do a panel, have a cone. I’d just finished the bonnet and was knocking another cone when I sensed movement. My bedroom had a view down the hall to the garage. The car was rolling. I’d left it in neutral and the handbrake was basically shot. I raced down the hallway and tried to stop it. Couldn’t. Put my foot under the wheel. It rolled over it. I made one last fruitless grab and then had to watch it roll down the steep driveway and through a retaining wall. It was a hatchback and the rear number plate was touching the back seat.

It was horrible at the time but it got me out of that drug house back to my folks’ place 50km away. With no car I couldn’t score and basically kicked a pretty severe speed and coke addiction. Got healthy, lost the starving junkie physique and pulled my life together. Insurance tried to wiggle out of paying but eventually the car even got fixed.