The signs of the injuries are still there. Kirk Hines wears a bulky brace on his right elbow. A large scar runs up from his pelvis to his breast plate.

He's still thin for his height, but not nearly as gaunt as he was when he was released from the hospital in December of last year.

Hines, now 21 and a graduate of Slippery Rock High School, is lucky to be alive after a one-car accident nearly claimed his life Oct. 15 of last year.

Hines, Corey Jones, Aaron Rensel and Justin Angerett were all thrown from a 1994 Honda Civic on East Portersville Road when it struck a utility pole.

Rensel and Jones were pronounced dead at the scene. Hines and Angerett were flown by medical helicopter to Pittsburgh hospitals.

Angerett, a star football player at Slippery Rock High, returned to the field for the Rockets' final game in early November.

The path to recovery has been a much longer one for Hines.

"You definitely have to take small steps," Hines says, "until you get to where you want to be."

Where Hines wants to be is back on his motocross bike.

As a youth, Hines was a whiz on two wheels. His name could be found at the top of the race results on a regular basis at Switchback Raceway and he advanced to the Loretta Lynn National Amateur Motocross Championships as a 15-year-old.

But shortly after that, Hines stopped riding regularly.

He had planned to begin riding in earnest again when his life changed forever.

"That's not Kirk"

Hines mother, Carol, didn't recognize her son when she finally saw Kirk, clinging to life in his hospital bed at UPMC Presbyterian in the wee hours of the morning on Oct. 16.

Carol walked into his room, but turned around to leave.

"That's not Kirk," she said.

It was.

Kirk was so badly swollen from head to toe, the only way he could be identified was by a tatoo running down the left side of his torso.

His injuries were extensive.

He broke five vertebrae in his neck, as well as his clavicle and pelvis. Both of his hips were dislocated. His spleen ruptured and his liver was lacerated.

The worst injury was two collapsed and badly bruised lungs.

It took three weeks for them to heal enough to re-inflate. During that time, Kirk was on a respirator and his chest was cracked wide open like a baked potato to allow the lungs to heal.

Kirk was in a coma for five days. When he finally awoke, he had no idea the extent of his injuries, or even how they occurred.

"I thought I wrecked on my dirt bike," he said.

After five days he was moved from UPMC Presbyterian to UPMC Mercy.

Even then he wasn't out of the woods.

"For two weeks straight they would not tell me he was going to be OK," Carol said.

Kirk could not eat solid food for months — he was fed through a feeding tube — and his weight loss was drastic.

When he was released from the hospital, he weighed only 120 pounds.

He's back to 170 pounds now.

"He'd tell people who came to see him, 'I'll give you $50 to get me a taco.'"

Having no solid food to eat was the least of Kirk's complications.

Soon after the accident, bony growths began forming in the soft tissue of his joints.

Kirk's brain was going haywire because of the immense physical trauma caused by the wreck.

Kirk was suffering from heterotopic ossification, which is most commonly seen in soldiers who are severely injured in bomb blasts.

Three weeks ago, he had the last of the growths removed from his right elbow.

"My brain basically freaked out," Kirk said.

While the physical recovery was rough for Kirk, the mental one was just as difficult.

"My best friend is gone"

Kirk was close with Corey Jones. They did just about everything together and Kirk considered Jones to be "like a brother."

As the days of his recovery passed, Kirk began to wonder why his best friend had not come to visit.

On Thanksgiving morning, Kirk was still under the impression his injuries occurred while riding his bike.

He turned to his mother and made what he thought was an innocent observation.

"Mom, I can't believe Corey hasn't come to see me," Kirk said.

Carol paused for a minute, then said, "He didn't make it."

"What do you mean," Kirk asked.

"You were in a car accident with Corey," Carol said. "Corey is no longer with us."

There are days, Kirk said, when he breaks into tears while sitting on the couch of his Franklin Township home.

He thinks of Corey and how much he misses him.

"Sometimes I'll wake up and I don't want anyone near me," Kirk said. "I try not to flip out, but there are days I can't help it. My friend, my best friend, is gone."

Kirk tries not to dwell on what happened. It's in the past and he is focusing on his future, more now than ever.

Before the accident, Kirk admits he didn't put much thought toward setting goals and reaching them.

After the accident, he said he sees things more clearly than ever. He has changed.

"I look at life a lot different than before," Kirk said. "I took it for granted. Before, I was an ass to everyone. Well, I still am a little bit, but I have definitely changed a lot."

One of the big changes Kirk hopes to make is climbing back on his bike and competing again.

He knows doing that is a long shot.

Doctors, he said, will never clear him to ride again. Getting insured may be next to impossible.

But that isn't stopping Kirk.

"I will ride again," he said. "As soon as I could talk in the hospital, I said I wanted to get back on the bike. That's all I want. That's all I think about."

Not being able to ride again is just one price Kirk may have to pay for his accident.

When Carol opened up the first hospital bill and read what it said, she began to cry."What's wrong?" Kirk asked.Between the tears and sobs, Carol said, "We owe $1.195 million — for one day."Kirk was uninsured at the time of his accident. His medical bills have swelled to around $1.5 million."Now, that's debt," Kirk said. "I want my bank account to look like that."Kirk's friends and family have held fundraisers for him, but it has only scratched the surface.There is also a Kirk Hines Fund set up at the First National Bank of Slippery Rock for those who want to donate money.Through the ordeal, Kirk said he has found out he has lots of friends."I had people 24-7 in the hospital," Kirk said. "Without friends and people around, it would be a lot harder. I am very lucky."