- Natalia’s relaxing night drive ended with her car plunging 100 metres down a cliff
- Trapped and badly injured, she escaped moments before her car caught fire
- Thankfully, her phone’s crash alert helped rescuers locate her, and she was rescued
Here, Natalia Sidorska, 32 tells her own story in her own words
Grabbing my car keys, I headed for the door.
‘I’m just going for a drive,’ I called to my fiancé Michael, 34, and son, Hassan, then 10.
I’d always loved being behind the wheel, it was how I’d unwind.
That evening in June 2025, I turned the keys in the ignition of my red Honda Civic Sport, popped my phone into the mount on the dashboard, locked the doors, and took off.
With no real destination, I found myself 90 minutes from home on an unfamiliar winding road.
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Shouldered by steep cliffs, it had sweeping bends and a speed limit of 60km/h.
The sun had just set, so the light was low when I suddenly found myself navigating a tight bend to the right. One moment I had four wheels on the road, the next both me and my vehicle were freefalling through the air.
I gripped the steering wheel fiercely and closed my eyes. The car was tumbling and the windows were shattering and spraying glass over my face, hair and arms.
My left foot, which had been on the brake, was jammed at an odd angle between the clutch and brake pedal.
My seatbelt snapped open as the car rolled 100 metres down the mountain, before coming to a halt right-side-up in a field at the bottom.
Terrified, I realised I was in the footwell of the back seat. Incredibly I felt no pain, but looking at my left leg I could see it was a bloodied mess. My left foot seemed to be hanging on by a small piece of skin…
Panic rose in my chest. I had to get out of here.
Unable to see my phone, I shouted to the virtual assistant, Siri, telling her to call an ambulance. She didn’t answer me…
I was alone – with no way of getting help.
Then, I heard the unmistakable crackle of fire coming from the car.
Dazed, confused and folded in half like a pretzel, I tried to untangle myself and open the passenger door behind the driver’s seat. Surely it’d be seconds before the car detonated like a bomb because of leaking fuel.
I pulled the door handle. Nothing… It was hopeless. I was destined to die.
Maybe the smoke will poison me before I feel the flames licking my skin, I thought, closing my eyes in the hope the end would come quickly.
Then I had a flash of memory – I locked the doors. I reached with my hand to the mechanism and released it.
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Then I crawled out, trying to get away from the car. Seconds later, as I turned back to look, the vehicle burst into flames.
That could have been me, I shuddered.
Free from the wreckage, adrenaline easing, my left leg radiated with pain.
Collapsing onto my back and staring up at the stars, I longed to sleep.
What about Hassan? I worried. I couldn’t die out here.
About 20 minutes had passed when I heard someone shouting.
‘Are you okay?’ a rescue worker cried, checking if I was alone.
‘Just me,’ I managed, woozy from blood loss.
Within minutes, the field was full of firefighters, police and the rescue team. I was given pain medication and loaded onto a stretcher then carried up to a waiting
helicopter. Flown to hospital, I was rushed into surgery on my ankle.
Waking hours later, a doctor told me I’d suffered a severe open ankle dislocation.
‘We’ve reconnected the nerves and the blood supply, and secured your foot with three metal pins,’ he said.
I had two breaks in my spine, and glass was painstakingly removed from my head, face, and arms.
Michael was by my side – because I’d added him as an emergency contact in my phone, when I crashed, it had sent him an alert pinpointing my location.
It’d also alerted emergency services.
‘We’d never have found you without it,’ he said.
After three weeks, once my face had healed, Hassan came to visit. I was so happy to see him.
Two weeks on, I was transferred to another hospital closer to home for specialist treatment after developing an E. coli infection in my foot.
I had two more ops where surgeons were forced to remove the infected foot bone. It meant I couldn’t be fitted with metal implants.
Instead, I had an external fixator – a large metal frame around my leg with 13 wires passing through skin and bone to hold the bones in place while they healed. My left leg is now 3cm shorter, and my ankle is fused.
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I spent months re-learning how to walk. But taking my first steps in August, I felt so proud.
Sadly, shortly after the accident, my relationship ended. But I was showered with love by my parents, Maria, 64, and Janusz, 71, and sisters, Wioletta, 46, and Silwia, 43.
They took care of Hassan, now 11, and visited me daily.
When I was finally discharged in October it was amazing.
Fourteen months on, I use a wheelchair around the house, but I’m walking short distances.
I’ve now got an adaptive car and am driving again.
I’m thankful every day that my phone sent out that alert.
If it hadn’t detected the crash, I don’t know how long I would have survived out there.
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