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MyRoadID.com
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Testimonials
The only ID I had was my Road ID.
I was returning from a thirty mile bike ride, at dusk. I was only two blocks from home. Heading west bound, an east bound car made a left hand turn, broad siding me. I was unconscious for over 20 minutes. I awoke in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. My wife was on a trip to Africa, so nobody was home.
The only ID I had was my Road ID. Thankfully, it listed my two daughters' phone numbers and my home number. The first responders saw my Road ID on my wrist as they were cutting off my clothes and providing life saving measures. They called my daughters and informed them of my accident and what hospital I was being transported to. My Road ID enabled my daughters to get to the hospital shortly after my arrival. As a result, they were able to approve the necessary procedures.
EMTs from the fire department and the ambulance crew were impressed with the Road ID and said that it would make their jobs easier if everyone had such an ID.
The important thing is I survived a terrible accident, though I am still on the mend. My Road ID provided information that I was unable to give. Realistically, it was at least 24hrs before I was able to answer questions.
The bottom line: Road ID is cheap insurance...you really cannot afford not to have such an ID system.
C. Scott W.
Carmichael, CA
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I travel for work and never take mine off
Recently, while out on a ride, I went to pass another rider. As I was passing, he moved left instead of staying in line, so I had to swerve out of his way. When I did, I hit an orange safety cone at 34 mph, did two and a half flips, and landed on my hip, shoulder, and head. I was still conscious, so I was able to relay most of my ...information to the paramedics when they arrived. When I got to the hospital, however, I had trouble remembering the name of a medication I was currently taking. The ER nurse was able to use my Interactive Road ID to access my full profile, which allowed her to see all my meds. She ended up calling several other nurses over to look at my Emergency Response Profile. One of the nurse's husbands rides a motorcycle and he recently had a wreck -- she apparently placed an order on the spot.
You have a great product. I travel for work and never take mine off.
Thanks, again.
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Henry G.
Scottsdale, AZ
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As a physician, you have a customer for life
As a physician and an endurance athlete, I have been a huge proponent of Road ID -- not only do I use it while running and biking, but I have also given many to friends and relatives. I even make a point to "advertise" to fellow competitors and patients every chance I get. Last Tuesday, as I was completing the final 2 miles... of a 44 mile ride, I woke up in an ambulance en route to a trauma center. I was apparently hit by an 18-wheeler in the bike lane and lost consciousness for a period of time. I was very fortunate to have only obtained a couple arm and hand fractures, 2 broken ribs, and a lot of bruises. My Road ID bracelet went uninjured in the crash and the first responders were able to notify my wife immediately as well as relay my basic information to the hospital personnel. You already had a customer for life, but I am now even more of a believer, and will continue to be one of your best salesmen.
Thanks again for a great product, and I wish you continued success.
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Richard P.
Atlanta, GA
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Road ID really does help save lives
My father recently suffered a massive heart attack while walking his 5 mile route through the neighborhood. A passerby found him lying in the middle of the road and immediately called 911. He had a low pulse and shallow breathing, and he was completely unresponsive. The EMS quickly arrived and rushed him to the ...hospital, where physicians and nurses took crucial steps to provide the necessary care. They were able to use his Road ID to obtain his name, date of birth, emergency contact name, phone number, and "Go Bucks!" (he is a die hard Ohio State fan).
After numerous surgeries and procedures, which included 4 new stents in his heart, my father was moved to the Intensive Care Unit. Little by little, he continued to show signs of improvement. After 10 days in a medically-induced coma and intensive work by multiple specialists on his lungs, heart, blood, brain, and vascular system, my father finally awoke. After a total of 16 days in the hospital with exceptional care, he is now recovering at home. He is very anxious to get back to walking, and he will always wear his Road ID. We now call him the "Miracle Man".
As a loving daughter, I was SO happy to learn that he was wearing his Road ID. Everyone who has heard this story now knows the importance of Road ID and how it helped save my father. I have encouraged everyone I share this story with to purchase their own Road ID as it really does help save lives.
Thanks again!
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Alisyn B.
Virginia Beach, VA
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I never thought it could happen, but it did…
While recently traveling for work, I went out for a run on a beautiful Florida morning. One minute, I was a mile and a half into a six-miler when I started feeling a little off – the next thing I know, I’m being loaded into a helicopter. The EMT held up my Road ID and said that they'd called my wife, who was back in Wisconsin.... My ID helped them identify who I was, my wife’s name and phone number, and my blood type.
Since the accident, I have become somewhat of an evangelist for your product. You probably hear it all the time, but I strapped my Road ID on my ankle thousands of times and NEVER thought it would be used. I never thought it could happen to me, but it did.
Like a lot of your customers (I suspect), a lot of my friends are athletes. Some even own your product. I have had two tell me that they had a Road ID but didn't always wear it. Well, they do now.
Thank you, Road ID!
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Kip K.
Sun Prairie, WI
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On the Road Again
“What’s your blood type?” my daughter Jennifer asks me.
“A-Positive I think. Why?” I reply. “Do you need some?”
“I’m buying you a Road ID,” she says. “For when you walk by yourself.”
I walk an average of 5 miles a day, 5 days a week. Sometimes I walk with friends, and I’ve done marathons and multi-day events... with groups, but I prefer to walk alone. I’m fast, and few of my walking buddies can match my pace. I do it for my heart, my back and bones, my head. It’s my time to make plans and solve problems, dissect conversations, compose stories. Road ID is a dog tag that you wear on your wrist, ankle or shoe. It has your name and address, medical alerts, emergency contact info—in case your incoherent form is found along the side of the road; in case you’ve lost your bearings or your memory.
Does my daughter think I’m getting too old to be let loose on my own?
* * *
Several years ago we were at a beach party celebrating her in-laws’ 50th anniversary. After a big spread of grilled meats, New Mexico chili and lots of salads and sides, cakes and cookies, most of the adults—those who weren’t watching small children—stretched out on grassy spots under trees and nodded off. I’m not a napper, so I seized the opportunity to walk off my lunch. I set out briskly along the bayside path. It was a gorgeous early summer day, warm but with a light breeze off the water. Sailboats and catamarans bobbled in the bay, children splashed and played along the shore, aromas of wood smoke and barbecue sauce swirled through the air.
When I returned an hour later, Jennifer stormed up to me, hands on her hips. It reminded me of my mother’s stance; was it mine too? “Where have you been?” she yelled. “I’ve been frantic.” She sounded like my mother too, reprimanding me for childish misdeeds.
Did she think I’d been kidnapped, drowned, overtaken by amnesia? Heavens, I thought, was this the beginning of my dotage? Had we switched roles, come full circle; was she now my caretaker? I was still in my 50s, hardly decrepit, she in her mid-30s. I chuckled at her indignation and assured her of my wellbeing and sound mind. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m still able-bodied, and I still have all my marbles.”
* * *
That story is still good for a laugh, and I remind Jennifer of it now. “Is that what this Road ID thing is about?”
She assures me it isn’t. “I have one too,” she says. “So does everyone in my running group. It’s not about age, Mom. Anything can happen when you’re running or walking alone.”
It’s no surprise that she worries about me, that she scrutinizes any evidence of my if-not-yet-then-looming decline. Her father died when she was 4, and losing me has always been her greatest fear. Even now that she’s an adult, middle-aged herself, we have the same call and response: she says, “Promise me you won’t die? Ever?” And I respond, “Nope, never. Money-back guarantee.”
But things are different now, and I look back on that day as a turning point in my relationship with my daughter. From birth into adulthood, it had always been about her; her fretting about me was something new. I had been a self-absorbed kid too, oblivious of my mother as a person. Maybe we all are. Wasn’t her purpose in life to be there for me? To hear my triumphs and woes, to kiss my “owies” and make me lime Jell-O with grapes when I’m sick? I don’t remember when I turned the corner with my mother, but I didn’t have the luxury of being babied as an adult; her fragile health meant that she was the one who had to be sheltered. She died at 60 when I was 33.
In contrast, I’ve always been strong and healthy, answering to “Mo-o-om”—that’s with three syllables—for Jennifer since her earliest utterances. When she was grown and had launched out on her own I was still there for her, with a loan, a shoulder to cry on, a recipe for meat loaf, unwavering support.
I still am, but our interaction is more reciprocal now. Two adults who care about each other. I tell her about my aches and pains, financial setbacks, my literary and culinary successes too. And she tells me everything, as she always has, perhaps with a little more whining than she might with her friends. After all, I’m still the mom. Role reversals between parents and adult children seem almost inevitable, though, and the time may come when I have to yield some of my stubborn independence and let her take charge. It won’t be easy on either of us.
I strap my stainless steel Road ID onto my left shoe, sealing its Velcro gripper. I tie the sturdy Asics that she bought me for my last birthday because she wanted me to have good walking shoes: “Properly fit, Mom—not whatever you find on the clearance rack at DSW.” I’m off on a solo 5-mile power walk, secure in the knowledge that if I’m found sprawling and speechless, her number is the one they’ll call.
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Alice L.
San Diego, CA
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