“You don’t know me, do you?” said the stranger who came to Jim Lawson’s house a few days before Thanksgiving. “I guess I look a lot different than I did before.”

Lawson, a Hot Springs school paraprofessional, acknowledged the man’s first question, saying he did not know him.

Soon, it would all be clear in what has become a life altering event for both men.

“I’m Joe,” the man continued. “We met a few years ago.”

The re-introduction was the beginning of a remarkable story.

Joe, who is Lakeside area resident Joe Lunceford, went on to recount the events of more than two years ago when he lay semi-conscious on a prairie hillside just north of Lawson’s home. He was fighting for his life.

It all began July 28, 2018. It was a summer afternoon just after a rain storm had swept across the grasslands and ranches along Montana 28.

As the rain let up, Lawson said he felt the urge to step outside and get some fresh air.

“As I went outside, I could hear a roar off in the distance,” Lawson recalled. “It became apparent it was from a motorcycle and the motorcycle was moving fast.”

The bike was heading north along a stretch of Highway 28, which links Plains to U.S. 93 at the Elmo junction. Lawson’s house was near the end of that straightaway, which changes abruptly to a set of sharp corners.

When the bike dipped behind a small hillside which obstructed Lawson’s view, he heard a sound he says he will always remember.

“I heard what sounded like screeching along the asphalt, then a big boom type sound that I knew was not good,” he said. “That is a sound I will never forget.”

Fearing the worst, Lawson headed for his ATV, his wife and family wanting to come along.

“I did not want them coming with me,” he said. “I had a feeling those sounds were the result of a crash and I didn’t want them seeing what I was afraid might be on the other side of the hill.”

The family came along, also knowing something bad must have happened and hoping they could help.

“Someone was looking after me that day,” Lunceford intoned. “I don’t remember much, but I remember coming into that corner at what was an estimated 134 mph.”

Unable to handle the corner at that speed, Lunceford said he laid the bike over on its side as it slid along the still wet asphalt.

“I remember lying on top of the bike, which was actually the side of the bike as I slid,” said Lunceford, a lifelong welder and mechanic who had been riding motorcycles since he was old enough to do so.

“I could see a clump of what I thought was a bush coming up fast on the far side of the road. After that, things went black for a long time. I know I was airborne and I kind of remember being launched into the air and coming down.”

Police officials who arrived at the scene estimated Lunceford had flown at least 25 yards through the air and that he had been thrown at least 25 feet high into the air upon impact.

“I know I had the bike, a Triumph with a V-8 engine, up to 152 at one point on the straight part, and by time I saw the corner ahead I had little time to slow down,” he said.

Lunceford and three friends had decided earlier that day to take a ride. The friends were left far behind when he “opened it up” on the flat, straight stretch.

The bike came to a halt several dozen more yards down the sloping hillside, which was mostly covered in tall prairie grass. Neither rider nor biker was visible from the highway.

Moments after the crash, Lawson and family pulled up to where the fresh skid marks were. At first Lawson could not see Lunceford, who had literally plowed into the dirt and tall grass.

“I finally saw him and went over to see if he was still alive,” Lawson said. “He was laboring to breathe and I could tell he was in pretty bad shape. He was actually trying to get up but there was no way that was going to happen.”

Lawson, who has had CPR and other first aide training over the years, restrained Lunceford from trying to move, fearing a serious head and neck injury.

At the same time, Lawson and family were trying to contact ambulances in both Plains and Hot Springs, but all were out on other calls. He finally managed to contact the Montana Highway Patrol and an officer eventually arrived at the scene.

“His breathing was very erratic,” Lawson said. “I felt we were going to lose him. One of the first things I did was dig the dirt from around his face to help him breath.”

An hour after arriving on the scene and staying with Lunceford while administering what help he could, Lawson said a helicopter was able to land near the crash site.

“When I got to the scene, he was not wearing a helmet and had a T-shirt and shorts on,” Lawson said. “I’m not sure how he survived. I don’t know if this was incredible luck or what.”

Lunceford was loaded onto the helicopter, which promptly took off toward Kalispell Regional Medical Center.

That was the last time Lawson saw Lunceford until he arrived two days at his home before Thanksgiving this year.

His injuries included a brain bleed, a near “hangman’s fracture” of his cervical spine, every rib broken in at least two places, fractured shoulders and a scapula, as well as numerous arm and leg injuries.

Lunceford was in a coma for 28 days.

“One of the medics at the scene said when they rolled me over it sounded like marbles rolling in a bag,” Lunceford said.

In the meantime, Lawson had been told by several people that Lunceford did not survive the flight to the hospital.

“I didn’t think he was going to make it,” Lawson said. “I didn’t know his name or where he was taken. I asked around but other people said they heard he did not survive.”

More than two years after the horrific crash, which Lunceford acknowledged was a very poor choice on his part, the stranger and Lawson hugged and smiled.

“I was stunned to say the least,” Lawson said. “I remember thinking come on man, you gotta make it. In the end, I guess it was meant to be, I was in the right place at the right time. I still don’t know why I felt I had to go outside that day.”

Lunceford agreed.

“This whole thing has been a very life changing event,” he said. “I’ve been humbled big time. And out of this whole thing, I’m alive and I have a new friend.”

Shortly after the accident, a set of large black and yellow curve signs were installed along the corner, marking the scene of a traffic hazard.

They also mark the site of a miracle.