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When I was in high school, I worked with an auctioneer from Oxford, NE who had a terrible alcohol problem. He told the story (some years after the fact) of the time he was absolutely plastered after the town soiree (Turkey Days, IIRC) and he and a buddy were hauling ass back to town and hit the town drunk (me tinks he gave the guy a run for his money, but I digress) with his car. They basically shot him up into the air and he flipped over the car, surviving with a couple of busted up legs.
BUT ... they hit him so hard that his boots flew off and wound up - with the socks still in them - caught up in the overhanging trees. I mean, cot dam.