“I was in downtown Atlanta on my way to the airport. I was in a beautiful ’06 silver Bentley GT with flakes in the paint, getting onto the highway right by Grady Hospital. Atlanta is on stilts when you’re going downtown. So I was on a bridge, sitting at the red light, and a lady smashed into my back at full speed and almost ran me off the bridge. She didn’t brake or anything, and she was on the phone. She thought I was gonna beat her ass because she saw a big, black dude. Everybody riding by was like, ‘Banner gonna beat that bitch’s ass!’ But I was hurt pretty bad. I hurt my neck and sprained my ankle. I didn’t even say nothing to her. I just got out and pointed to my Bentley symbol. The crazy thing with having an accident in a Bentley is her insurance won’t be able to cover it. So it’s a no-win.
I went to Mississippi to see my dad the next morning because I had missed my flight. I had been about to go to D.C. to host a party, then go to Miami, back to New York and then back to Atlanta. If that car accident hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have been able to spend time with my father before he died from lung and brain cancer. I spent three days with him. I bathed him, slept in the room where he was and laughed with him. He died two days after I left to go back on the road. The car was nothing compared to those three days I was able to spend with my father. I haven’t even checked on [the car] to be honest with you. I don’t really care.”