Boy racers

We'd just got back to base when the job pinged on our screen. Car on fire. Great. Just around the corner, about 30 seconds away.
I drive, my mate jumps in next to me, we've already put our jackets on. We drive around and control get back to us again saying there is a car on fire. I see a car pull out of a pub car park and think there is something dodgy about this one, you know the feeling you get?
Anyway, I drive on and see people waving us down. We pull up alongside and I jump out grabbing the fire extinguisher. I take the scene in; i'm being filmed by sick people on their mobiles. Someone shouts thats it's OK - they're out of the car. I walk across the bomb site, which is exactly what it resembles, I have never seen anything like it in my life. I don't recognise the make of the car. I look inside and don't really recognise what I see either.
The driver is dead. I can tell that by looking at his injuries. I feel the carotid of the passenger, he is sitting upright looking nothing like the driver is. I shout for my mate to get me the trolley. I can't feel a pulse but I can tell this kid is young and I need to try and do something. My mate brings my helmet, which I throw away. A responder car turns up and starts sticking pads on the drivers chest. I tell them to leave it, that he's dead but he carries on. He's in PEA he shouts at me. No shit. "Leave him alone and help me get the door open" I say, actually I shout it because the idiot is intent on focusing on the damn driver.
Another crew turns up, thankfully they're a crew that I know and a whole lot more switched on than the responder. The Fire Service turn up and yank the door off, I quickly collar the lad, for the good it will do him. We get him on board and I suction him, he fills up again. I can't clear his airway, I look to tube him but I don't recognise any of what I should. Thankfully the hospital is 5 minutes away and we blue light him in. They call it pretty much straight away, he had dissected his trachea, amongst other things.

A few days later my boss calls me at home; What are you doing tomorrow? He asks. The boys mum wants to talk to you about the incident.

Shit.