"ALRIGHT mate, what's your name," asks a voice from the back seat of the car, as hands hold my head to stop me moving.

I answer, and the voice tells me I've been in a crash. He's from North Yorkshire Fire and Rescue Service and they're going to cut me free from the car, but first they're going to put a neck brace on me, to make sure I don't injure myself further.

Thankfully, although the car I'm in has suffered catastrophic damage - the front end is crushed, one of the doors is missing, and the bodywork is beyond saving - I'm perfectly safe.

This is a demonstration, held at York College, to give young motorists an idea of what it's like to be cut out of a crashed vehicle, and to give fire crews chance to practice with live volunteers.

The first thing the crew do, after checking I'm not in physical pain, is to let me know they'll be prising open the door next to me, and I should expect to hear a lot of loud noises.

York Press: The Press reporter Dan Bean experiences how fire fighters recover crash victims from vehicles during a demonstration event at York College on Friday. Picture David Harrison.

I'm told to let them know if I feel in pain or concerned, then a safety board is placed between my face and the windows, then smash the glass so they can remove the door without fear of them or myself being cut.

After two calls of "managing glass, managing glass now", the windows are broken, then my seatbelt is cut off, and the car is stabilised from the outside so it doesn't rock too much while I'm being cut free.

York Press: The Press reporter Dan Bean experiences how fire fighters recover crash victims from vehicles during a demonstration event at York College on Friday. Picture David Harrison.

A huge set of metal jaws, powered by hydraulics, are used to pinch part of the front wing, buckling it, then inserted into the gap created between the wing and the door and extended, prising it away.

Metal twists and bends, then with a loud 'crack', the hinges break with enough force that the air vents on the dashboard jump, and then with the lightest touch from the firefighter, the door falls to the ground.

Next, a huge set of hydraulic cutters are used to make a hole in the windscreen, clamping onto the metal frame around it and exerting pressure until the metal gives way, the glass spiderwebbing right across the windscreen as the hydraulic jaws close. The same is done on the opposite side of the windscreen, and as the metal frame gives way, the roof of the car sags noticeably.

York Press: Pictures: York College

A noisy high-powered saw is used to cut a line across the safety glass, handed from one firefighter to the other, and making one straight incision, and as the glass is cut, water is poured onto the windscreen in an attempt to stop glass falling into the front seats. The protective panel is in front of my face again, but I can feel powdered glass in the air and on my hands.

The hydraulic jaws are used again, this time by the footwells of the car, and a hydraulic piston is brought out and wedged between the frame where the door used to be. As it extends, the dashboard and the front of the car is rolled back, making more room to remove me from the vehicle.

York Press:

In all, thanks to the professionalism of North Yorkshire Fire and Rescue Service this isn't a scary experience - their running commentary explains each element of the process, puts me at ease, and I'm protected from injury wherever possible. To them, it's a relatively easy job, and they're well practised at it.

However, it's important to remember that these were ideal circumstances and I was a willing participant.

I can't begin to imagine how terrifying this would have been after regaining consciousness following an actual crash. Disorientated, injured and frightened, I can't imagine any amount of reassuring words from the experts would be able to calm me down.

It's something I truly hope never to experience 'in real life', and I hope you never have to experience it either, so please take car while driving this winter.