Michael Dumond, a paramedic for the Fort Kent Ambulance Service, has a working view of New Year’s Eve and the drunken drivers who overcelebrate it. And judging from a recent submission to the editorial pages, he doesn’t much like what he sees. In the holiday’s spirit of counting down toward midnight, Mr. Dumond offers a countdown to the final events of a year — or, for that matter, a life.

The details of the instant a car traveling 55 mph strikes a solid object are not original to him — Mr. Dumond says the description has been widely distributed for years — but bear repeating on an evening when some people mark the beginning of the new year by doing things so idiotic they ensure they will never see the rest of it. The second of the speeding car’s impact, broken down into 10ths, goes like this:

In the first 10th of a second, the front bumper and grill collapse.

The second 10th finds the hood crumbling, rising and striking the windshield as the spinning rear wheels lift from the ground. … Although the car’s frame has been halted, the rest of the car is still going 55 miles per hour. Instinct causes the driver to stiffen his legs against the crash, and they snap at the knee joint.

After that, things start to get really personal for the driver, although a well-deployed airbag could lessen some of this.

In the space of time from the third 10th through the sixth 10th, terrible events occur: The driver, still moving approximately 35 mph, could be impaled on the steering column, filling his lungs with blood. His head might smash into the windshield as the rear wheels return to earth.

As the car flies apart in the seventh 10th, the danger of the rear seat breaking free to strike the driver from behind no longer carries a risk of harm because the driver is dead.

Tenths 8 through 10, naturally, are superfluous.

This level of carnage assumes the driver hits something nice and inanimate, like a rock. If the driver hits another speeding motorist, figure the damage is at least doubled.

This is dramatic stuff, but it is intended to make potential drunk drivers uncomfortable and, perhaps, think twice before drinking and driving. Mr. Dumond closes his letter by saying, “I don’t want to meet you professionally, buckle up and drive safe.” Exactly.