| Biographical Non-Fiction posted November 21, 2018 |
  |
An adventure of mine
Cajon Pass
by Ms. Snyder
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
At the top of I-15 just above Phelan, California there is a drop off of several thousand feet along a very steep hill that winds into a canyon. This canyon is called Cajon Pass to most or Cajon Summit if you were to ask Google or Siri. It is a beautiful area of large purple mountains and majestic views; however, it can be extremely treacherous. It has been known for its serious accidents and pileups during winter weather, fog and other problems for high profile vehicles when it is windy or has had fallen snow.
On this particular day the weather was sunny, the temperature was balmy, and the wind was calm. The weather for us was impeccable and we could see for miles. Tom and I were heading on a cross-country trip to deliver my furniture. I was excited to embark on this adventure, I was leaving Las Vegas for the first time as an adult and moving my belonings to Illinois. Tom my friend and I had a lot in common especially our musical taste, Van Halen was cranked on the cassette deck and the conversation flowed.
Tom was in a great mood. I was finally ready to get my things moved once and for all. Tom had taken off two extra days from work over a long weekend, so that he could help with the move. We had talked about the trip for weeks and planned for months. He was a great friend to help me with the driving and the company.
Most will ask why if moving from Las Vegas to Illinois would you even drive south to California. Well the answer was easy. A mutual friend that both Tom and I knew was living in California. We decided since we would be so close to him in our trip, we would go a little further south and take the I-10 interstate across after meeting him for lunch.
Things were going well, and there was no reason whatsoever for the cream colored Toyota truck with a U-Haul from heading down hill, south on I-15 in a line to do a full 180 degree turn. As we started down the hill, I only applied my brakes softly. I felt a discomfort in the pit of my stomach as the steep incline was approaching quickly.
I was driving for a short time applying the brake with the concern not to pick up any additional speed. I felt the U-Haul behind me sway first to the left and then to the right only slightly, as if it was going to tilt. I felt the threat and almost - as if in slow motion -- the truck started moving. It appeared we were going to be changing lanes; and then we were completely turned in the opposite direction.
Like magic we are facing a vehicle that was driving just behind and in the lane to our right. Now this same vehicle is at our left. As we skidded towards the berm the side where the canyon drops off there was the steepest portion. It was silent inside the cab of the truck. Tom wasn't talking or screaming. I wasn't screaming.
I think we both were shocked by what we were seeing and trying to make sense of it all as the horror took place. We both were seeing a beautiful canyon one moment facing downhill; and now our scenery had drastically changed. Facing up hill we are sliding to our right uncontrollably. As the passenger side of the Toyota truck and U-Haul slid towards the drop off to Cajon Pass it hit the berm.
The small jutted concrete berm was just a mild deterrent to slow or stop the vehicle from careening down the canyon. The U-Haul, a square box containing every worldly possession I owned, was heavy enough to hold the truck from rolling over the edge and heading straight down the hill.
Luckily the U-Haul trailer stayed together connected to the truck. The metal bars were twisted like a piece of licorice and seemed to be strained. For what ever reason, we didn't take out any other cars on our descent and we didn't hit another vehicle while sliding or turning.
In disbelief, my foot continued and was pressed as hard as it could to the brake. I wanted to put it through the floor. I had a grip on the steering wheel so tight, that my hands were firmly locked and felt like they were glued to the black steering wheel still holding on with the truck now stopped.
I was still in motion. My head was spinning and my heart was beating out of control. A fog of darkness inside my brain.
I do not know what possessed Tom to decide to open his passenger door immediately. In my peripheral, a lot is happening. I am completely unaware at the time that Tom is rolling from out of his seat and down the side of the mountain several feet.
I just know he has disappeared from the cab and next to me. Tom stops at a point further down the hill, stunned. When he is able to stand and look up at the side of the mountain, he tries to decipher which way to proceed up the hill.
I don't know if he was feeling fear at first, but he only took a few seconds to ask himself, should he step to his left or should he step to his right. The truck was hanging at a precarious position above him.
The U-Haul was flat with the top of it presenting itself and both vehicles looked as if each were coming towards him. Tom finally picked a path and was able to walk back up the steep incline toward the hanging vehicles and around to the driver's side of the Toyota.
The people who were driving alongside of us are at the same time heading towards me in the truck. They sure did get an eye-full. Tom is finally at the road and approaches the cream colored truck still trying to determine why the vehicles were perched and hadn't rolled down the hill.
The thing I think about when I reflect about this moment was; it was amazing! Not only did the vehicles not roll down the hill, not one time, not one sound or one accusatory blameful word came out of Tom's mouth. He wasn't yelling at me.
I thought he was going to start yelling at me. He was as stunned as I was the entire time trying to reconcile what had happened and continued to look over to the vehicles to determine if he could locate an answer.
Another stranger was approaching the truck. He was stopped at the side of the road nearest the canyon. He had parked his motorcycle in front of where my truck was perched. I was able to see him clearly. In that two minute time frame, although it seemed instantly and only seconds, there was a motorcycle cop at the scene.
This particular CHIP (California Highway Patrol) was using his radar gun sitting in wait for speeders in a perfect spot, hidden, when he witnessed our entire escapade. At the time, and being young; I wasn't a huge fan of cops and Tom was a lesser fan. However due to the circumstances in unison, both the CHIP and Tom were talking to me through the driver's side window. The driver from the other vehicle was standing behind them and all three were showing concern to get me from the truck as safely as possible. The situation was dire. At any moment the vehicle could tip and head down the canyon. It was urgent that I get out.
I was propped up in the air maybe a good four to five feet above the ground. The vehicle was tilted toward the canyon with the passenger's door step and running board at the side level, in the dirt, and hanging off over the drop at the canyon cliff. On the driver's side of the truck it was pitched up and the front tire and bumper were off of the ground and at an angle which was roughly 90 degrees.
The truck was tilted completely off of the normal paved part of the shoulder. Near the shoulder, the bed of the truck was mangled and bent from the cab and seemingly ready to snap. The connection with the U-Haul exactly where the A-frame piece fit over the ball was compromised. If you could imagine: the steep drop-off being the river, and a fishing line being the contorted connection and the U-Haul square box combined - with the cream colored Toyota truck being the bait.
All the furniture had been completely tossed and moved about when the U-Haul flipped on its side and hit flush to the ground. The only thing keeping that truck from moving in my opinion were the belongings being so dense inside that U-haul. The U-haul's position being flat on the ground saved the entire truck along with both Tom and me from going over the berm and into the canyon.
It took all three of the guys to convince me to get out of the truck. I can't describe my feeling as fear, as much as it was at the time an emotion of nothingness. I had none. I was blank. Two stranger's voices were talking to me and I heard Tom's voice. He was the first that I heard out loud. He may have said more. I must have sent my mind somewhere.
I was not exactly sure where I was, but I wasn't completely in the reality of the world at that moment. At that exact time as they all were approaching the vehicle, I left myself and my mind back at the top of the hill.
Being an analytical person I was still going over the physics of the event of how I could have made a mistake. What did I do wrong? I didn't have my life flash before my eyes. I barely understood what had just happened. I was seeping into my darkness again.
I barely heard them speaking to me; when I finally heard Tom say, "Fondüskars listen to me, you need to get the fuck out of the truck now!" Tom Muller's voice was penetrating my darkness. I glanced at him as he was wiping off his jeans filled with sage brush and desert dirt all over them. He blended in like camo in the desert. Like a robot that has been programmed, I listened as they peeled my fingers from the steering wheel and helped me exit the truck.
I had to step down the same distance as my height to get out of the vehicle. The strangers and Tom each put a hand out for me to brace myself and the cop stated, "Slowly and carefully step down" I started to move down from the longer and higher exit of my truck. I immediately sat down on the side of the road as Tom lorded over me to the left and looked down the highway. The first thing I wanted to know was: was Tom okay?
We were just a few feet away from this unbelievable sight. It stayed perched precariously above the Cajon Pass and we both couldn't figure out how or why this one piece of metal was holding so much weight. "Are you okay?" I asked Tom. "I'm FINE!" Tom then yelled. I was wondering when he was going to get upset. I thought to myself.
But he was actually yelling so that I could hear him above the cars that were whizzing by heading south on I-15. Some of the vehicles were descending down the pass as much as hundred miles per hour. It sounded ominous. Cajon Summit is busy along with being one of the steepest descents when traveling south on I-15 from Nevada to California. Traffic continued to be noisy.
The motorcycle officer came up to me and started talking; I can't remember much of anything he said except the answer when I asked, "So do you think we can get back on the road this afternoon?"
The cop smirked and chuckled slightly as he stated calmly, "I am sorry young lady, but you have two cracked axles. I don't think the shop in Phelan will be able to work that fast to repair your vehicle." He reacted as if I had just asked him to take a rocket ship to the moon. Tom was laughing his ass off alongside the officer. He chimed in, "NO!"
I also remember the officer saying, "They are sending a crane and a flatbed to move it to the shop, if that is okay with you? Unless you have somewhere else you would like it towed?" I said one last thing as the darkness crept back in, "I guess that will have to do."
"Our friend is waiting for us to have lunch with him and if someone could contact him please? We need to let him know what has happened. Maybe he could come to pick us up? We would be very grateful." I overheard faintly Tom explaining to the officer. Everything seemed unreal, as if we were on a movie set. The sounds were muted and varied in strength.
Our friend sat in his Mustang waiting on us to join him at a restaurant in San Bernardino, California. Because of the seriousness of the accident and our situation the officers were sent to tell him in person.
Tom and I were extremely lucky that we had someone who could help us. We spent a few unplanned days in California with our friend to work out how we were getting back to our destination. I lost all my belongings due to these circumstances beyond my control. But it didn't keep me down and it didn't stop me from thinking in a positive way.
I struggled with this last part of my story and whether I would share. Over the years I have had to recount this story to Tom a hand full of times for him to usually remember. I remember vividly most of the details. I can picture myself in the truck to this day. And that is crazy because I can't even remember things I did last week. I finally decided to look back on the writings about this event. I made sure Tom and I discussed it in its entirety. If he was scared he never did tell me.
To this day, he swears that it was his best vacation. He was able to spend a week at the ocean for his very first trip to Southern California.
All those years ago I wrote in my journal these events, but I didn't take the time to write my emotional connection to the story. And that is pretty funny, as I have been reviewing a lot of what I wrote when I was younger.
I lived and still till this day live in my emotions with everything that I usually write. But I think the reason I had such a difficult time attaching any emotion here for this one event; it was so bewildering. I couldn't figure out which emotion to attach. Every emotion that you could feel hit me at one time.
So I didn't cry. I didn't feel a loss even though I lost everything I owned. I wasn't outwardly sad. I didn't feel remorse about it. It was the most incongruent emotional time in my life. If this would happen to me now, I would be a bawling fit of tears and rage. So I guess some things are definitely easier to swallow and endure when you are young.
The ultimate cause of our accident: I don't know if it was a fact, but the insurance company stated that lines to the brakes, that were manually set up by my father (with his best intentions of course), somehow weren't connected properly. Therefore when heading down the steep incline, the weight behind the truck pushed it, and the brakes failed.
The insurance didn't replace my truck or my possessions. I had to live for a period of time with a vehicle that had more than 75% of its body in Bondo. Bondo is a body type of filler that I don't think gets used as much any more, but I'm sure some body shops still use it. Luckily insurance companies for the most part will not Bondo more than 50% anymore. They will total the vehicle. My belongings had to be replaced on my own dime. It wasn't the first time I had to start over from nothing. I'm happy to say that I am a pro.
This was an adventure of mine I had to share. Tom Muller has always been one of my closest friends. His memory is bad, but it always has been. Mine is getting worse. This adventure was well over thirty years ago. We were really good friends before this accident, but we became family because of Cajon Pass.
True Story Contest contest entry
At the top of I-15 just above Phelan, California there is a drop off of several thousand feet along a very steep hill that winds into a canyon. This canyon is called Cajon Pass to most or Cajon Summit if you were to ask Google or Siri. It is a beautiful area of large purple mountains and majestic views; however, it can be extremely treacherous. It has been known for its serious accidents and pileups during winter weather, fog and other problems for high profile vehicles when it is windy or has had fallen snow.
On this particular day the weather was sunny, the temperature was balmy, and the wind was calm. The weather for us was impeccable and we could see for miles. Tom and I were heading on a cross-country trip to deliver my furniture. I was excited to embark on this adventure, I was leaving Las Vegas for the first time as an adult and moving my belonings to Illinois. Tom my friend and I had a lot in common especially our musical taste, Van Halen was cranked on the cassette deck and the conversation flowed.
Tom was in a great mood. I was finally ready to get my things moved once and for all. Tom had taken off two extra days from work over a long weekend, so that he could help with the move. We had talked about the trip for weeks and planned for months. He was a great friend to help me with the driving and the company.
Most will ask why if moving from Las Vegas to Illinois would you even drive south to California. Well the answer was easy. A mutual friend that both Tom and I knew was living in California. We decided since we would be so close to him in our trip, we would go a little further south and take the I-10 interstate across after meeting him for lunch.
Things were going well, and there was no reason whatsoever for the cream colored Toyota truck with a U-Haul from heading down hill, south on I-15 in a line to do a full 180 degree turn. As we started down the hill, I only applied my brakes softly. I felt a discomfort in the pit of my stomach as the steep incline was approaching quickly.
I was driving for a short time applying the brake with the concern not to pick up any additional speed. I felt the U-Haul behind me sway first to the left and then to the right only slightly, as if it was going to tilt. I felt the threat and almost - as if in slow motion -- the truck started moving. It appeared we were going to be changing lanes; and then we were completely turned in the opposite direction.
Like magic we are facing a vehicle that was driving just behind and in the lane to our right. Now this same vehicle is at our left. As we skidded towards the berm the side where the canyon drops off there was the steepest portion. It was silent inside the cab of the truck. Tom wasn't talking or screaming. I wasn't screaming.
I think we both were shocked by what we were seeing and trying to make sense of it all as the horror took place. We both were seeing a beautiful canyon one moment facing downhill; and now our scenery had drastically changed. Facing up hill we are sliding to our right uncontrollably. As the passenger side of the Toyota truck and U-Haul slid towards the drop off to Cajon Pass it hit the berm.
The small jutted concrete berm was just a mild deterrent to slow or stop the vehicle from careening down the canyon. The U-Haul, a square box containing every worldly possession I owned, was heavy enough to hold the truck from rolling over the edge and heading straight down the hill.
Luckily the U-Haul trailer stayed together connected to the truck. The metal bars were twisted like a piece of licorice and seemed to be strained. For what ever reason, we didn't take out any other cars on our descent and we didn't hit another vehicle while sliding or turning.
In disbelief, my foot continued and was pressed as hard as it could to the brake. I wanted to put it through the floor. I had a grip on the steering wheel so tight, that my hands were firmly locked and felt like they were glued to the black steering wheel still holding on with the truck now stopped.
I was still in motion. My head was spinning and my heart was beating out of control. A fog of darkness inside my brain.
I do not know what possessed Tom to decide to open his passenger door immediately. In my peripheral, a lot is happening. I am completely unaware at the time that Tom is rolling from out of his seat and down the side of the mountain several feet.
I just know he has disappeared from the cab and next to me. Tom stops at a point further down the hill, stunned. When he is able to stand and look up at the side of the mountain, he tries to decipher which way to proceed up the hill.
I don't know if he was feeling fear at first, but he only took a few seconds to ask himself, should he step to his left or should he step to his right. The truck was hanging at a precarious position above him.
The U-Haul was flat with the top of it presenting itself and both vehicles looked as if each were coming towards him. Tom finally picked a path and was able to walk back up the steep incline toward the hanging vehicles and around to the driver's side of the Toyota.
The people who were driving alongside of us are at the same time heading towards me in the truck. They sure did get an eye-full. Tom is finally at the road and approaches the cream colored truck still trying to determine why the vehicles were perched and hadn't rolled down the hill.
The thing I think about when I reflect about this moment was; it was amazing! Not only did the vehicles not roll down the hill, not one time, not one sound or one accusatory blameful word came out of Tom's mouth. He wasn't yelling at me.
I thought he was going to start yelling at me. He was as stunned as I was the entire time trying to reconcile what had happened and continued to look over to the vehicles to determine if he could locate an answer.
Another stranger was approaching the truck. He was stopped at the side of the road nearest the canyon. He had parked his motorcycle in front of where my truck was perched. I was able to see him clearly. In that two minute time frame, although it seemed instantly and only seconds, there was a motorcycle cop at the scene.
This particular CHIP (California Highway Patrol) was using his radar gun sitting in wait for speeders in a perfect spot, hidden, when he witnessed our entire escapade. At the time, and being young; I wasn't a huge fan of cops and Tom was a lesser fan. However due to the circumstances in unison, both the CHIP and Tom were talking to me through the driver's side window. The driver from the other vehicle was standing behind them and all three were showing concern to get me from the truck as safely as possible. The situation was dire. At any moment the vehicle could tip and head down the canyon. It was urgent that I get out.
I was propped up in the air maybe a good four to five feet above the ground. The vehicle was tilted toward the canyon with the passenger's door step and running board at the side level, in the dirt, and hanging off over the drop at the canyon cliff. On the driver's side of the truck it was pitched up and the front tire and bumper were off of the ground and at an angle which was roughly 90 degrees.
The truck was tilted completely off of the normal paved part of the shoulder. Near the shoulder, the bed of the truck was mangled and bent from the cab and seemingly ready to snap. The connection with the U-Haul exactly where the A-frame piece fit over the ball was compromised. If you could imagine: the steep drop-off being the river, and a fishing line being the contorted connection and the U-Haul square box combined - with the cream colored Toyota truck being the bait.
All the furniture had been completely tossed and moved about when the U-Haul flipped on its side and hit flush to the ground. The only thing keeping that truck from moving in my opinion were the belongings being so dense inside that U-haul. The U-haul's position being flat on the ground saved the entire truck along with both Tom and me from going over the berm and into the canyon.
It took all three of the guys to convince me to get out of the truck. I can't describe my feeling as fear, as much as it was at the time an emotion of nothingness. I had none. I was blank. Two stranger's voices were talking to me and I heard Tom's voice. He was the first that I heard out loud. He may have said more. I must have sent my mind somewhere.
I was not exactly sure where I was, but I wasn't completely in the reality of the world at that moment. At that exact time as they all were approaching the vehicle, I left myself and my mind back at the top of the hill.
Being an analytical person I was still going over the physics of the event of how I could have made a mistake. What did I do wrong? I didn't have my life flash before my eyes. I barely understood what had just happened. I was seeping into my darkness again.
I barely heard them speaking to me; when I finally heard Tom say, "Fondüskars listen to me, you need to get the fuck out of the truck now!" Tom Muller's voice was penetrating my darkness. I glanced at him as he was wiping off his jeans filled with sage brush and desert dirt all over them. He blended in like camo in the desert. Like a robot that has been programmed, I listened as they peeled my fingers from the steering wheel and helped me exit the truck.
I had to step down the same distance as my height to get out of the vehicle. The strangers and Tom each put a hand out for me to brace myself and the cop stated, "Slowly and carefully step down" I started to move down from the longer and higher exit of my truck. I immediately sat down on the side of the road as Tom lorded over me to the left and looked down the highway. The first thing I wanted to know was: was Tom okay?
We were just a few feet away from this unbelievable sight. It stayed perched precariously above the Cajon Pass and we both couldn't figure out how or why this one piece of metal was holding so much weight. "Are you okay?" I asked Tom. "I'm FINE!" Tom then yelled. I was wondering when he was going to get upset. I thought to myself.
But he was actually yelling so that I could hear him above the cars that were whizzing by heading south on I-15. Some of the vehicles were descending down the pass as much as hundred miles per hour. It sounded ominous. Cajon Summit is busy along with being one of the steepest descents when traveling south on I-15 from Nevada to California. Traffic continued to be noisy.
The motorcycle officer came up to me and started talking; I can't remember much of anything he said except the answer when I asked, "So do you think we can get back on the road this afternoon?"
The cop smirked and chuckled slightly as he stated calmly, "I am sorry young lady, but you have two cracked axles. I don't think the shop in Phelan will be able to work that fast to repair your vehicle." He reacted as if I had just asked him to take a rocket ship to the moon. Tom was laughing his ass off alongside the officer. He chimed in, "NO!"
I also remember the officer saying, "They are sending a crane and a flatbed to move it to the shop, if that is okay with you? Unless you have somewhere else you would like it towed?" I said one last thing as the darkness crept back in, "I guess that will have to do."
"Our friend is waiting for us to have lunch with him and if someone could contact him please? We need to let him know what has happened. Maybe he could come to pick us up? We would be very grateful." I overheard faintly Tom explaining to the officer. Everything seemed unreal, as if we were on a movie set. The sounds were muted and varied in strength.
Our friend sat in his Mustang waiting on us to join him at a restaurant in San Bernardino, California. Because of the seriousness of the accident and our situation the officers were sent to tell him in person.
Tom and I were extremely lucky that we had someone who could help us. We spent a few unplanned days in California with our friend to work out how we were getting back to our destination. I lost all my belongings due to these circumstances beyond my control. But it didn't keep me down and it didn't stop me from thinking in a positive way.
I struggled with this last part of my story and whether I would share. Over the years I have had to recount this story to Tom a hand full of times for him to usually remember. I remember vividly most of the details. I can picture myself in the truck to this day. And that is crazy because I can't even remember things I did last week. I finally decided to look back on the writings about this event. I made sure Tom and I discussed it in its entirety. If he was scared he never did tell me.
To this day, he swears that it was his best vacation. He was able to spend a week at the ocean for his very first trip to Southern California.
All those years ago I wrote in my journal these events, but I didn't take the time to write my emotional connection to the story. And that is pretty funny, as I have been reviewing a lot of what I wrote when I was younger.
I lived and still till this day live in my emotions with everything that I usually write. But I think the reason I had such a difficult time attaching any emotion here for this one event; it was so bewildering. I couldn't figure out which emotion to attach. Every emotion that you could feel hit me at one time.
So I didn't cry. I didn't feel a loss even though I lost everything I owned. I wasn't outwardly sad. I didn't feel remorse about it. It was the most incongruent emotional time in my life. If this would happen to me now, I would be a bawling fit of tears and rage. So I guess some things are definitely easier to swallow and endure when you are young.
The ultimate cause of our accident: I don't know if it was a fact, but the insurance company stated that lines to the brakes, that were manually set up by my father (with his best intentions of course), somehow weren't connected properly. Therefore when heading down the steep incline, the weight behind the truck pushed it, and the brakes failed.
The insurance didn't replace my truck or my possessions. I had to live for a period of time with a vehicle that had more than 75% of its body in Bondo. Bondo is a body type of filler that I don't think gets used as much any more, but I'm sure some body shops still use it. Luckily insurance companies for the most part will not Bondo more than 50% anymore. They will total the vehicle. My belongings had to be replaced on my own dime. It wasn't the first time I had to start over from nothing. I'm happy to say that I am a pro.
This was an adventure of mine I had to share. Tom Muller has always been one of my closest friends. His memory is bad, but it always has been. Mine is getting worse. This adventure was well over thirty years ago. We were really good friends before this accident, but we became family because of Cajon Pass.
On this particular day the weather was sunny, the temperature was balmy, and the wind was calm. The weather for us was impeccable and we could see for miles. Tom and I were heading on a cross-country trip to deliver my furniture. I was excited to embark on this adventure, I was leaving Las Vegas for the first time as an adult and moving my belonings to Illinois. Tom my friend and I had a lot in common especially our musical taste, Van Halen was cranked on the cassette deck and the conversation flowed.
Tom was in a great mood. I was finally ready to get my things moved once and for all. Tom had taken off two extra days from work over a long weekend, so that he could help with the move. We had talked about the trip for weeks and planned for months. He was a great friend to help me with the driving and the company.
Most will ask why if moving from Las Vegas to Illinois would you even drive south to California. Well the answer was easy. A mutual friend that both Tom and I knew was living in California. We decided since we would be so close to him in our trip, we would go a little further south and take the I-10 interstate across after meeting him for lunch.
Things were going well, and there was no reason whatsoever for the cream colored Toyota truck with a U-Haul from heading down hill, south on I-15 in a line to do a full 180 degree turn. As we started down the hill, I only applied my brakes softly. I felt a discomfort in the pit of my stomach as the steep incline was approaching quickly.
I was driving for a short time applying the brake with the concern not to pick up any additional speed. I felt the U-Haul behind me sway first to the left and then to the right only slightly, as if it was going to tilt. I felt the threat and almost - as if in slow motion -- the truck started moving. It appeared we were going to be changing lanes; and then we were completely turned in the opposite direction.
Like magic we are facing a vehicle that was driving just behind and in the lane to our right. Now this same vehicle is at our left. As we skidded towards the berm the side where the canyon drops off there was the steepest portion. It was silent inside the cab of the truck. Tom wasn't talking or screaming. I wasn't screaming.
I think we both were shocked by what we were seeing and trying to make sense of it all as the horror took place. We both were seeing a beautiful canyon one moment facing downhill; and now our scenery had drastically changed. Facing up hill we are sliding to our right uncontrollably. As the passenger side of the Toyota truck and U-Haul slid towards the drop off to Cajon Pass it hit the berm.
The small jutted concrete berm was just a mild deterrent to slow or stop the vehicle from careening down the canyon. The U-Haul, a square box containing every worldly possession I owned, was heavy enough to hold the truck from rolling over the edge and heading straight down the hill.
Luckily the U-Haul trailer stayed together connected to the truck. The metal bars were twisted like a piece of licorice and seemed to be strained. For what ever reason, we didn't take out any other cars on our descent and we didn't hit another vehicle while sliding or turning.
In disbelief, my foot continued and was pressed as hard as it could to the brake. I wanted to put it through the floor. I had a grip on the steering wheel so tight, that my hands were firmly locked and felt like they were glued to the black steering wheel still holding on with the truck now stopped.
I was still in motion. My head was spinning and my heart was beating out of control. A fog of darkness inside my brain.
I do not know what possessed Tom to decide to open his passenger door immediately. In my peripheral, a lot is happening. I am completely unaware at the time that Tom is rolling from out of his seat and down the side of the mountain several feet.
I just know he has disappeared from the cab and next to me. Tom stops at a point further down the hill, stunned. When he is able to stand and look up at the side of the mountain, he tries to decipher which way to proceed up the hill.
I don't know if he was feeling fear at first, but he only took a few seconds to ask himself, should he step to his left or should he step to his right. The truck was hanging at a precarious position above him.
The U-Haul was flat with the top of it presenting itself and both vehicles looked as if each were coming towards him. Tom finally picked a path and was able to walk back up the steep incline toward the hanging vehicles and around to the driver's side of the Toyota.
The people who were driving alongside of us are at the same time heading towards me in the truck. They sure did get an eye-full. Tom is finally at the road and approaches the cream colored truck still trying to determine why the vehicles were perched and hadn't rolled down the hill.
The thing I think about when I reflect about this moment was; it was amazing! Not only did the vehicles not roll down the hill, not one time, not one sound or one accusatory blameful word came out of Tom's mouth. He wasn't yelling at me.
I thought he was going to start yelling at me. He was as stunned as I was the entire time trying to reconcile what had happened and continued to look over to the vehicles to determine if he could locate an answer.
Another stranger was approaching the truck. He was stopped at the side of the road nearest the canyon. He had parked his motorcycle in front of where my truck was perched. I was able to see him clearly. In that two minute time frame, although it seemed instantly and only seconds, there was a motorcycle cop at the scene.
This particular CHIP (California Highway Patrol) was using his radar gun sitting in wait for speeders in a perfect spot, hidden, when he witnessed our entire escapade. At the time, and being young; I wasn't a huge fan of cops and Tom was a lesser fan. However due to the circumstances in unison, both the CHIP and Tom were talking to me through the driver's side window. The driver from the other vehicle was standing behind them and all three were showing concern to get me from the truck as safely as possible. The situation was dire. At any moment the vehicle could tip and head down the canyon. It was urgent that I get out.
I was propped up in the air maybe a good four to five feet above the ground. The vehicle was tilted toward the canyon with the passenger's door step and running board at the side level, in the dirt, and hanging off over the drop at the canyon cliff. On the driver's side of the truck it was pitched up and the front tire and bumper were off of the ground and at an angle which was roughly 90 degrees.
The truck was tilted completely off of the normal paved part of the shoulder. Near the shoulder, the bed of the truck was mangled and bent from the cab and seemingly ready to snap. The connection with the U-Haul exactly where the A-frame piece fit over the ball was compromised. If you could imagine: the steep drop-off being the river, and a fishing line being the contorted connection and the U-Haul square box combined - with the cream colored Toyota truck being the bait.
All the furniture had been completely tossed and moved about when the U-Haul flipped on its side and hit flush to the ground. The only thing keeping that truck from moving in my opinion were the belongings being so dense inside that U-haul. The U-haul's position being flat on the ground saved the entire truck along with both Tom and me from going over the berm and into the canyon.
It took all three of the guys to convince me to get out of the truck. I can't describe my feeling as fear, as much as it was at the time an emotion of nothingness. I had none. I was blank. Two stranger's voices were talking to me and I heard Tom's voice. He was the first that I heard out loud. He may have said more. I must have sent my mind somewhere.
I was not exactly sure where I was, but I wasn't completely in the reality of the world at that moment. At that exact time as they all were approaching the vehicle, I left myself and my mind back at the top of the hill.
Being an analytical person I was still going over the physics of the event of how I could have made a mistake. What did I do wrong? I didn't have my life flash before my eyes. I barely understood what had just happened. I was seeping into my darkness again.
I barely heard them speaking to me; when I finally heard Tom say, "Fondüskars listen to me, you need to get the fuck out of the truck now!" Tom Muller's voice was penetrating my darkness. I glanced at him as he was wiping off his jeans filled with sage brush and desert dirt all over them. He blended in like camo in the desert. Like a robot that has been programmed, I listened as they peeled my fingers from the steering wheel and helped me exit the truck.
I had to step down the same distance as my height to get out of the vehicle. The strangers and Tom each put a hand out for me to brace myself and the cop stated, "Slowly and carefully step down" I started to move down from the longer and higher exit of my truck. I immediately sat down on the side of the road as Tom lorded over me to the left and looked down the highway. The first thing I wanted to know was: was Tom okay?
We were just a few feet away from this unbelievable sight. It stayed perched precariously above the Cajon Pass and we both couldn't figure out how or why this one piece of metal was holding so much weight. "Are you okay?" I asked Tom. "I'm FINE!" Tom then yelled. I was wondering when he was going to get upset. I thought to myself.
But he was actually yelling so that I could hear him above the cars that were whizzing by heading south on I-15. Some of the vehicles were descending down the pass as much as hundred miles per hour. It sounded ominous. Cajon Summit is busy along with being one of the steepest descents when traveling south on I-15 from Nevada to California. Traffic continued to be noisy.
The motorcycle officer came up to me and started talking; I can't remember much of anything he said except the answer when I asked, "So do you think we can get back on the road this afternoon?"
The cop smirked and chuckled slightly as he stated calmly, "I am sorry young lady, but you have two cracked axles. I don't think the shop in Phelan will be able to work that fast to repair your vehicle." He reacted as if I had just asked him to take a rocket ship to the moon. Tom was laughing his ass off alongside the officer. He chimed in, "NO!"
I also remember the officer saying, "They are sending a crane and a flatbed to move it to the shop, if that is okay with you? Unless you have somewhere else you would like it towed?" I said one last thing as the darkness crept back in, "I guess that will have to do."
"Our friend is waiting for us to have lunch with him and if someone could contact him please? We need to let him know what has happened. Maybe he could come to pick us up? We would be very grateful." I overheard faintly Tom explaining to the officer. Everything seemed unreal, as if we were on a movie set. The sounds were muted and varied in strength.
Our friend sat in his Mustang waiting on us to join him at a restaurant in San Bernardino, California. Because of the seriousness of the accident and our situation the officers were sent to tell him in person.
Tom and I were extremely lucky that we had someone who could help us. We spent a few unplanned days in California with our friend to work out how we were getting back to our destination. I lost all my belongings due to these circumstances beyond my control. But it didn't keep me down and it didn't stop me from thinking in a positive way.
I struggled with this last part of my story and whether I would share. Over the years I have had to recount this story to Tom a hand full of times for him to usually remember. I remember vividly most of the details. I can picture myself in the truck to this day. And that is crazy because I can't even remember things I did last week. I finally decided to look back on the writings about this event. I made sure Tom and I discussed it in its entirety. If he was scared he never did tell me.
To this day, he swears that it was his best vacation. He was able to spend a week at the ocean for his very first trip to Southern California.
All those years ago I wrote in my journal these events, but I didn't take the time to write my emotional connection to the story. And that is pretty funny, as I have been reviewing a lot of what I wrote when I was younger.
I lived and still till this day live in my emotions with everything that I usually write. But I think the reason I had such a difficult time attaching any emotion here for this one event; it was so bewildering. I couldn't figure out which emotion to attach. Every emotion that you could feel hit me at one time.
So I didn't cry. I didn't feel a loss even though I lost everything I owned. I wasn't outwardly sad. I didn't feel remorse about it. It was the most incongruent emotional time in my life. If this would happen to me now, I would be a bawling fit of tears and rage. So I guess some things are definitely easier to swallow and endure when you are young.
The ultimate cause of our accident: I don't know if it was a fact, but the insurance company stated that lines to the brakes, that were manually set up by my father (with his best intentions of course), somehow weren't connected properly. Therefore when heading down the steep incline, the weight behind the truck pushed it, and the brakes failed.
The insurance didn't replace my truck or my possessions. I had to live for a period of time with a vehicle that had more than 75% of its body in Bondo. Bondo is a body type of filler that I don't think gets used as much any more, but I'm sure some body shops still use it. Luckily insurance companies for the most part will not Bondo more than 50% anymore. They will total the vehicle. My belongings had to be replaced on my own dime. It wasn't the first time I had to start over from nothing. I'm happy to say that I am a pro.
This was an adventure of mine I had to share. Tom Muller has always been one of my closest friends. His memory is bad, but it always has been. Mine is getting worse. This adventure was well over thirty years ago. We were really good friends before this accident, but we became family because of Cajon Pass.
 Recognized |
|
The photo I have put with my story is a more recent view of Cajon Pass. They now have a guard rail up as you can see. I chose the photo because it is almost the exact area in which we had our accident back in 1987. I chopped this immensely from a chapter that I wrote in a book/journal I have been keeping for years. If I put the whole chapter, everyone would be scratching their head. Too many extraneous characters. I hope I cleaned it up enough to focus on the meat and potatoes of this story.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. Ms. Snyder All rights reserved.
Ms. Snyder has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
