Crushing Cars, Rebuilding My Life

How one woman discovered she could begin again... after annihilating everything in her path.

- By Jaclyn Trop

I'm assuming neither of you has crushed a car before?” Tony Borglum, the owner of Drive a Tank, asks me and my friend Gina.

We shake our heads. I'm nervous. We've been driving armored military vehicles all morning, but the watershed moment of the two-day program in Kasota, Minnesota, arrives before I feel ready.

“As you approach the car, stay on the throttle,” he instructs. “You're going to have to fight every impulse in your brain, but remember: Do not lift your foot off the pedal.”

When we booked our girls’ trip months ago, we'd envisioned blowing off everyday stress by driving decommissioned tanks through the wilderness. But by the time the day arrived, the trip felt less than celebratory. My fiancé, Davey, had died in an accidental drowning five weeks earlier, and the trip would mark my first reunion with Gina, a close mutual friend whom we'd tapped to officiate our future wedding. It would also mark my first effort to return to normalcy following a prolonged bout of delirium.

In the early days, after I reported Davey missing while he was out riding a motorcycle, I channeled my frazzled energy into publicizing the search efforts in media interviews, calling the police for updates, and reading hundreds of messages that poured in from around the world. Some sought to provide comfort, while others proffered bogus tips that Davey had been spotted in some corner of the world, raising my hopes each time despite the growing impossibility.

When I wasn't running on waning adrenaline, I retreated into an ever-shrinking shell of myself. I relied on a bulwark of friends to feed me, clothe me, and drive me around town. They patiently listened to me voice my disbelief repeatedly, and they sat sentry with me day and night. In those weeks, I couldn't bear even a minute alone—a disorienting urge for an avowed introvert.