A speaker with impact

SPRINGFIELD — It’s the car that keeps on giving — 11 years, four months and 15 days after it was crashed by a drunken driver.

The champagne-colored 1996 Ford Contour was not even four years old on Dec. 20, 1999, when it wrapped around a maple tree, going an estimated 65 to 70 mph in a 25-mph zone on a curve of West 18th Avenue between Bailey Hill and Bertelsen roads.

Since its demise, the dead car’s twisted metal and smashed glass have served as a startling reminder of the dangers of intoxicated driving.

“It’s terrible,” Springfield High School junior Jared Hayes said Wednesday morning, looking at the car that David Hanson of Eugene was driving that early morning. “Just all the stuff he went through. It just makes me never want to drink.”

That’s the idea.

Hanson, now 34, hopes the message he delivered Wednesday to Springfield High’s 1,400 students, in two separate morning assemblies in the school’s auditorium, will at least persuade them to never drink and drive.

“I am here today to open up my heart, to open up my soul, and share the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in the hopes that you guys will turn that into wisdom,” Hanson told students — some who had tears in their eyes, many who whispered, “Oh, my god,” more than once — during the assemblies.

Hanson was invited to speak to students by health teacher Terrisa Cook, who is the adviser for a club called Students Opposed to Drugs and Alcohol, or SODA Club. The students are participating in a national program called, “Every 15 Minutes.” The program, based on the notion that someone is injured or killed every 15 minutes in the United States by a drunken driver, challenges students to think about drinking, driving, personal safety and the responsibility of making mature decisions, according to its website.

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration estimates that 12,000 to 14,000 Americans were killed annually between 1998 and 2007 because of drunken driving.

Cook met Hanson a few years ago when he was talking to a driver education class at Springfield High School. Hanson often brings the infamous car with him, towing it on a flatbed trailer. Although the words were not attached to the bumper the night of the crash that nearly took his life, they are now: “Please don’t drink and drive.”

Cook hopes Hanson’s message is timely for students, with proms and graduation parties soon approaching. “He was young and made a mistake, and he’s willing to share his story so others don’t make the same mistake,” Cook said.

Hanson says he has given his talk about 400 times now. He says he has not had a drop of alcohol since the crash that also severely injured his passenger, one of his best friends since middle school. They are no longer buddies, the friend having sued him for $1.1 million. They settled out of court for $50,000.

Hanson’s blood-alcohol level that night was 0.22 percent, almost three times the legal limit.

The first time Hanson told his story to a group of high school students was in 2000, when he asked a former teacher of his, Willamette High School social studies teacher, Bob Saunders, if he could talk to his class. It had been only three months since the crash that put Hanson in the hospital for 19 days with a fractured skull, two broken legs, several broken ribs, collapsed lungs and 227 stitches in his face, among other injuries.

He was charged with reckless driving, driving under the influence of intoxicants and third-degree assault, a felony, because of his friend’s injuries. He initially had been charged with second-degree assault, which could have landed him in prison for 7½ years, he said. Fines and legal fees totaled more than $28,000. Medical bills topped $275,000. His parents’ health insurance provided 100 percent coverage.

“I need to share this with other people in the hope it will save someone else,” said Hanson, now a married father of three girls and an ad salesman for HOPE 107.9 FM, a Christian radio station in Albany.

“Don’t ever drive when you’re intoxicated,” he told the students. “I don’t know what else to say.”

After the second assembly, students gave Hanson a standing ovation. His eyes became moist. Eleven-plus years later, the talk never gets old for him, he said. He believes he survived for a reason.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” Hanson said after the talk. “It’s dead-serious for me.”

Senior Eli Siegle stood looking at the smashed car, the windshield caved in, the steering wheel inches from the driver’s seat, that was parked in front of the school all day Wednesday.

“It was the best I’ve heard,” Siegle said. “He pulled the students into his talk. It felt like he actually cared.”