I had something similar happen, except the piece of metal came through the windshield and impaled itself in the center console. If I didn't swerve left when I saw it coming...

Congratulations! Your video, Scrap Metal Impales Windshield From Other side of Highway, has reached the #1 spot in the current Top 15 New Videos listing. This is a very difficult thing to accomplish but you managed to pull it off. For your contribution you have been awarded 2 Power Points.

This achievement has earned you your "Golden One" Level 2 Badge!

Your video, Scrap Metal Impales Windshield From Other side of Highway, has made it into the Top 15 New Videos listing. Congratulations on your achievement. For your contribution you have been awarded 1 Power Point.

Congratulations! Your video, Almost impaled, has reached the #1 spot in the current Top 15 New Videos listing. This is a very difficult thing to accomplish but you managed to pull it off. For your contribution you have been awarded 2 Power Points.

This achievement has earned you your "Golden One" Level 139 Badge!

Your video, Almost impaled, has made it into the Top 15 New Videos listing. Congratulations on your achievement. For your contribution you have been awarded 1 Power Point.

If I believed in Karma, then I'd say it's for the hundreds of fish this guy has impaled in the mouth with his fishing hook, and then left to suffocate on the boat. Either way, it's so much needless suffering.

Richard Dawkins seems to think that the lower intelligence a creature the more pain it feels (to keep it safe, since it's unable to reason as effectively). There's no real way to tell how much pain a fish feels, but watching it try to escape as it's being pulled by the mouth is a pretty good indicator. For comparison if someone stuck a hook in a dogs mouth, and then pulled the dog along as it squirmed and writhed in pain, people would lose their minds. A fish is doing the same thing, only minus the yelping.

Well, my old car is a 1970 Bronco, and it's really heavy and solid (full box tube frame and full roll cage), and it's lifted so it will ride over most small cars.
Now, in a head on with another lifted truck, I'm toast. I don't even have a slip joint in my steering shaft or a 3 point seat belt, so I'll probably be impaled through the chest.
I'll still swear my old car is safer in an average mid speed crash with a car, but I can admit it's more dangerous in many, many other ways.

Also, if you put your foot in it without the cutouts open, the muffler will probably impale it self in the Prius behind you.

I dislike this woman and I hope she impales her face on a set of golden antlers.

The etymology of racial slurs can be an amusing topic. Jigaboo, for example, comes from a bantu word for keeping your head bowed, implying servility. Nignog, a british classic, was originally nigmenog, which had no racial connotation and just meant a foolish person until some racists came along and said, 'hello, I know what that word sounds like', and appropriated it for their silly purposes.

Remember when Katy Perry could have impaled herself on a Cake-Boss steel pole through a giant cake she impromptu decided to jump onto?

Glad you mentioned that. I didn't want to watch it either because the post makes it seems the guy may have been impaled or sliced.

No man, that body armour, those boots...I'd harvest the bones of a thousand murdered infants to build our bed if that's what it took. Do you think that's what she wants?

I had to go rewatch this. It's practically perfect. Not an origin story, no romance subplot, no compromise. Just a day in the life of Judge Dredd. Love it, but my favourite Dredd story was told in rhyme:

They'd been waiting there since nightfall for the Sharks to come along,
They knew they'd have to pass this stretch of street.
So they'd sharpened up their stickers and they'd brought along their bars,
And they were wearing steel-tipped stompers on their feet.

There was Big Frank Zit and Faceache, Crazy Joseph with his spear,
The Dixon Boys were there and Billy Rat.
Ike the Spike had brought his sister with her homemade ghetto blaster,
And the Ghoul had put new rivets in his bat.

Now it wasn't nothin' personal that they had against the Sharks,
Any bunch of dead-end spugs would do.
'Cos there was nothing they liked better than to mash and bash and stomp,
Same as any normal Mega-City juves.

"A-rumbling! A-rumbling! We love to go A-rumbling!
("AAAH!")
We love to lay in ambush in the night!
("AAAA!")
A-rumbling! A-rumbling! The Zits were born for rumbling!
(SMAK!)
There's nothing we like better than a fight!"
(KRAK!)

Then a headlight pierced the darkness - a rider gaunt and grim,
Daystick drawn and ready in his hand.
     The chin belonged to Dredd,
     And the voice as well, which said:
"You creeps can do your rumbling in the can!"

"It's just one judge!" cried Cindy Spike and opened with her blaster -
"I'll send him back to Central in a sack!"
(SPOING! "AAAAAAA!")
But Dredd's bike absorbed the blast and laid her on the street,
With tyre marks running right across her back.

Then the judge got down to business and his daystick rose and fell,
Striking out at every head he saw.
For though the Zits launched the attack, the Sharks were fighting back -
And self defence is no defence in law!

As the heap of bodies mounted, Big Zit could see his Waterloo,
Waiting just one station down the line.
Oh, sure, he loved to rumble - but he preferred to be on top...
"Let's scram and live to fight another time!"

("Dredd to Control! We got forty-plus juve rumblers fleeing east through Bernstein. Zits and Sharks, back-up required."
"Wilco, Dredd!"
"Med squads and meat wagons to Moreng Alley. Estimate twenty casualties, more to follow."
"Control to all units area Bernstein. YPs on the run."
VRMMMM!
"Pick 'em up!")

In the space of sixty seconds there was a judge on every street.
From watching bays others scanned the slab -
"We got two Zits runnin' fast though the Tamblin Underpass!"
"Krupke here! I got 'em in the bag!"
(THUNK! THUNK!)

They cut them off at Sondheim and they mopped them up on Wood,
On Pedway 12 they corned Crazy Joseph.
He tried to make a stand - but a spear's not worth a damn,
When it's up against a judge's high explosive.

The Ghoul surrendered quietly, he didn't have much choice -
Ike the Spike tried to scale the sector wall -
("Save your bullet, he'll never make it." "Oh no! AAAAAAAAAAAAH!" SPLATT!)
The Dixon Boys all copped it when they tried to hitch a ride,
On the 2020 Zoom to Bernstein Halt.

Big Zit thought he'd play it clever, the law was everywhere,
The safest thing for him to do was hide -
Dredd tracked him down on infrared - "Don't bother to come out!"
"The best place for trash like you is inside!"

In minutes flat they'd caught them, every Shark and every Zit.
To Dredd it fell to ladle out the years -
"Twenty years apiece for Cindy Spike, Billy Rat and Ghoul."
An extra ten left Big Frank Zit in tears.

For Faceache minus half his face, for the hapless Dixon Boys,
For Ike impaled so cruelly on his spike,
For Crazy Joe with his gaping hole, there'd be one final rumble,
Along the last conveyor belt at Resyk.

A-rumbling! A-rumbling! They loved to go A-rumbling!
But the Zits will go A-rumbling no more!
A-rumbling! A-rumbling! They loved to go A-rumbling!
But they should've known they couldn't buck the law!

Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,
Engines pumping and thumping in time.
The green light flashes, the flags go up.
Churning and burning, they yearn for the cup.
They deftly maneuver and muscle for rank,
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank.
Reckless and wild, they pour through the turns.
Their prowess is potent and secretly stearn.
As they speed through the finish, the flags go down.
The fans get up and they get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's driving and striving and hugging the turns.
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.

He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone (All alone!)
All alone in her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse,
He's going the distance.

No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine,
He's haunted by something he cannot define.
Bowel-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse,
Assail him, impale him with monster-truck force.
In his mind, he's still driving, still making the grade.
She's hoping in time that her memories will fade.
Cause he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's striving and driving and hugging the turns.
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.

Cause he's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone (All alone!)
All alone in her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
He's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
He's going the distance.

This has got to be some sort of very well made prosthetic for these impaling illusions.