Trucks Are Getting More Dangerous And Drivers Are Falling Asleep At The Wheel. Thank Congress.

WASHINGTON -- Illinois State Trooper Douglas Balder sat in his squad car, its red and blue lights strobing into the frozen night of Jan. 27, 2014. He was about to be set on fire.

Balder had stopped to assist a Chicago-bound big rig that had stalled out in the rightmost lane of the Ronald Reagan Memorial Tollway. A heavy-duty tow truck and a bright yellow Tollway assistance vehicle were also pulled over, attending to the stranded semi.

Balder, a Navy reservist and father of two, had his heater cranked against minus-30-degree wind chill. He had positioned his 2011 Crown Victoria behind the Tollway vehicle and switched on his flashers. There were also flares sputtering on the pavement, and the Tollway truck was flashing a large blinking arrow and its amber hazard lights. Visibility on that clear, cold night was excellent -- around 10 miles.

Renato Velasquez, who was barreling toward the stopped vehicles in a flatbed big rig loaded with three massive rolls of steel, didn't see Balder's flashers. He didn't see the pulsing arrow or the flares. He didnt change lanes or take any evasive action until far too late. Velasquez was falling asleep, a court would find later. His truck rammed into Balder's squad car at 63 miles per hour, according to the National Transportation Safety Board investigation into the accident.

The impact crushed the Crown Vics trunk, exploding the gas tank and catapulting the patrol car into a roadside ditch. The three 14,580-pound steel coils chained to Velazquez's trailer bed burst their restraints. One of the massive rolls struck the cab of the Tollway vehicle, instantly killing its 39-year-old driver Vincent Petrella and injuring Agron Xhelaj, the driver of the stalled truck who was seated beside him.

Balder had lost consciousness when his face hit the steering wheel.

"I woke up a short time later on fire, he said. Literally on fire. Burning alive.

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In that moment, Balder didn't know exactly what had happened. His squad car was half collapsed. The detonated gas tank was spraying fuel and flames through his cab. His only clear thoughts were of survival and of his wife of 14 years, Kimberlie. He yelled out her name.

A certain degree of that was emotion at the moment, knowing that I might die, screaming to the last person you might love, he said.

Balder needed to find a way to escape if he was ever going to see his wife and kids again.

He tried to start his engine, then tried to radio for help. Fire was spreading from around the partition behind him, burning his back, head and legs. He couldn't open his door or window. He tried the switches on his armrest, and the passenger window miraculously cranked down.

As that cold air came in and swirled that air around, adrenaline set in, and I flew out, he said. The only other choice was to sit there and die.

He tumbled out on the roadside, rolling in the snow to extinguish the flames that had already scorched more than a third of his body. By the time he stumbled around the back of the wreck and back up to the road, local police were arriving to help.

You got this guy walking up with his skin hanging off his arm," Balder said. "My pants were all burned off to the skin.

He spent six weeks in a medically induced coma, three months in the hospital, and needed 10 surgeries and extensive, ongoing rehab to recover.