Carol was in worse shape. She was losing blood fast, due to a severely lacerated liver. Her right leg was shattered and eventually had to be reconstructed. Nine ribs were broken, and the aorta valve had been damaged. Most serious was the burst fracture of two vertebrae, roughly half way down the back, which had crushed her spinal cord. She did not regain consciousness until a week after the initial surgery. Both would survive the accident, but for Carol, the worst was yet to come.

Tom and Bea were at her bedside constantly, and they knew it was serious. Tom was talking, trying to think of things to say to Carol, which would give her the incentive to live. "I was unconscious, but some people, although they can't respond, can hear things. Others don't realize this. Everybody was saying encouraging things. My Dad promised me that he'd buy me a Ferrari if I lived." She would hold Tom to his promise.

Shortly after the purchase of the 500 "Baby" Ninja in March 1987, Carol poses for her boyfriend on the new bike. "I'd have bought one for myself, but my parents refused to harbor a motorcycle under their roof. They knew the dangers."

As Carol regained consciousness and still in ICU, her mother and her sister Cathy were at her bedside. They told her what had happened, where she was, and began to describe the injuries. "They said I'd broken my back and that I'd be paraplegic. My first thought was, 'Would I ever have sex again?' In a way I refused to believe it, as in 'surely you jest'. This isn't what I had planned for myself. But Mom and the doctors started talking about rehab and how I'd get better. But I didn't realize at the time, what rehab really meant was that you'd get better than you are now, not that you'd be able to walk again."

Eight weeks and six major surgeries later, Carol was admitted to Rehabilitation. Rehab didn't take. There were encouraging words from a doctor about the possibility of some movement or feeling recurring. In spinal injuries, there is complete and incomplete severance of the spinal cord. But it's not an exact science, certainly not black and white. "There was some trace movement in my legs. We all kept hoping. But when I got to rehab, on the first day, there was no trace of muscle movement. Like zero." This is when Carol first realized that she might never walk again. It was extremely upsetting. Then came some hope. About a month after she started therapy, she found that some motor and sensation was returning to her legs. "I was able to move my legs. So I was going to get better---then I thought that I didn't need therapy anymore, since I was going to be ok. I fought it until the very end."

Failure was not an option. Whether she could walk or not, she had to get about her life. "There are two basic types of personalities, passive and aggressive. I think one's real personality comes out in times like this." Carol obviously wasn't a passive type. "But I had incredible support from my family and friends." Her boyfriend Matt, once his injuries had healed, saw Carol every day. "He was very supportive, and I never blamed him for the accident. But it was hard for him. I was very difficult to put up with, the anger and frustration was just pouring out on whoever was around. After a while, we broke up-and I can't blame him for that, either."

In October 1987 just about in time for her 19th birthday, she left rehab. The world seemed very different now.