Truck crash survivor’s life changed in seconds
It was an unseasonably warm day — the warmest Feb. 9 on record — when Robert Gobbi drove his truck through the intersection at Ebycrest and Sawmill roads in Woolwich Township.
Travelling home to Maryhill from his company’s office in Waterloo, the 63-year-old maintenance manager was heading through a green light at 71 km/hour — below the speed limit — when the driver of an SUV made the impulsive decision to outrun him for a turn.
She failed, his truck plowed into her vehicle and, in the chaos and cacophony that followed, Gobbi’s life changed forever.
“The last thing I remember was the truck, because of technology, calling 911 on my behalf,” says the father of four and grandfather of five, who suffered broken ribs and a concussion that will take months to heal.
“Then all the airbags deployed. I remember my face going into the airbag. And then I passed out.”
When he woke up his face was tingling and he smelled sulphur (from the airbag), “like something was burning.”
“My whole side hurt, from my neck to my kneecap. I unbuckled myself, turned around and opened the driver’s door to get out because I thought it was on fire. Then I passed out on the highway.”
From here his memories are fractured, tiny snippets of reality punctured by bouts of unconsciousness as lights flashed and sirens blared.
“The next thing I remember I was at the back end of my truck and someone was administering first aid,” he says of the doctor who stopped at the scene and introduced himself as “Ben.”
“He goes ‘I’m here for you. I know what you’ve been through. I was in an accident myself.’ He tried to keep me awake.”
A few minutes later, another person appeared.
“She introduced herself as Cathy. She said ‘Is there someone I can call?’ I said ‘Yes, my wife.’ She went into the cab of the truck, retrieved both my phones — work and personal — scrolled up and called my wife on my behalf. Then I remember blacking out again.”
Minutes passed. More chaos. At some point, Gobbi woke up.
“I could hear the fire truck, the police, the first responders,” he recalls.
“Then the paramedics took me away to Grand River Hospital.”
He was in excruciating pain. “They calmed me down.”
He was overcome with anxiety. “They administered a shot.”
The ER was packed like sardines, “but someone still came and attended to me, to make sure I was stable.”
Then came the tests: CT scan, blood work, consultations with doctors, brain specialists, a psychologist.
“I’ve been driving for 40 plus years,” notes Gobbi.
“This was my first experience in a car accident, the first time I’ve experienced these services.” He laughs.
“I’m from the old school. I grew up on a farm. You only go to the hospital when you have to, when you’re half dead.”
While devastating to him and his family, his collision was neither as catastrophic as some, nor as benign as others.
In 2023, the latest period for which statistics are available, police say 15,837 collisions were reported in the region, which is about 43 crashes per day.
Of those, 2,550 involved personal injury, with 92 classified as “major injury” and 10 as “fatalities.”
If there was a way to chart these accidents in severity, Gobbi — who missed two weeks of work and, a month later, is still in pain — would be somewhere in the top tier.
“We are so fortunate to live in a community where we have people willing to stop and help,” he insists, emerging from his ordeal with a positive message.
“The good Samaritans and all the people involved that were at the scene — the police, paramedics, the fire people.
“We hear of the political struggles, the contract struggles. But I can’t think where we’d be if we didn’t have these types of people in our community.”
A month after his accident, it’s the point he comes back to again and again: how lucky he is, how grateful.
“They say seconds can change your life,” he notes.
“Those seconds definitely changed mine. I can’t say thank you enough.”
“We are so fortunate to live in a community where we have people willing to stop and help,” says Robert Gobbi.
MATHEW MCCARTHY METROLAND