don’t wake up most mornings thinking that today would be a good day to die. But if I was going to, today would have been just fine. Honestly, I’m not afraid to go. I know what heaven feels like through mediation. But that’s not saying I’m ready. Yet, if I was being called, it was a beautiful morning: Clear blue skies in the big sky country of Montana, with just a few high wispy angel-like clouds. Unlike yesterday’s sky, which was perfectly clear, not a cloud to be seen. Yes, the angels this morning were near and watching from the heavens above.
I woke up around 7AM, and haven’t been sleeping too well the past few nights. My mind is already worrying about returning home, and what I should do once I get back there. Find a part time job perhaps. I remember it being like this last year too as our six week summer RV vacation was drawing to a close. And I remember my spirit-self telling my mind-self that everything would be ok. And it has been, I’m in God’s hands. Last night I remember praying to God in my semi-conscious dream state to please watch over me, and to help me find my way. To show me a sign ….
We’d just spent two wonderful days boondocking along the Taylor Creek in the Gallatin National Forest. We had our coffee and typed in our journals. My boyfriend, Spencer, said he was feeling antsy, and asked if we should get an early start. Sure, why not? We’ll drive the short 10 miles up to the ski town of Big Sky. We’ll pull in somewhere up there, make breakfast, and then go and explore the village.
Spencer went out and packed up camp, and I put away the inside of the RV. I got dressed. Didn’t your Mom always tell you to wear your best underwear whenever you traveled … Just in case? I’m not sure it was my Mom who offered that fine piece of advice, but someone sure did. I put on good underwear and a “Peace, Love, Moose” tee-shirt I had just purchased in Grand Teton. I would later find that today – Sunday, Sept. 21 – was International Peace Day. It’s also my Grandmother’s Birthday. More reasons that today would have been just fine for leaving this grand earthly life behind.
Spencer was still in his Mizzou pajama bottoms. I’m not sure he had underwear on. I guess he wasn’t afraid.
We drove north on Highway 191, along the beautiful windy canyon road, running alongside the Gallatin River, watching the sites as they went by, hoping to spot a moose along the riverbanks.
“Hey firewood …. ” Spencer pointed to some big stacks of firewood for sale, as we came along a straightway. We were in need of some. I was busy checking out a nice looking ranch-style home on my side of the road. I cocked my head to look out his driver’s side window.
Then: “Ohhhhhhh …. sssshhhiiiittttt …..”. In his side view mirror, Spencer could see a car trying desperately to pass us, with two oncoming cars fast approaching in the southbound lane. The highway held no berm.
RVs don’t like to have their breaks jammed on. Imagine a 5 ton house trailing behind you, trying to come to a complete stop from 50mph.
The world went into slow motion … The angels drawing near …
Spencer began braking as hard as he could without sending us into a skid. In an instant, the passing car was in front of us, no more than a car’s length ahead. It felt as though the car was on our front bumper, when the driver lost control of the car, skidding and t-boning sideways. The car careened into the guardrail, spinning next to me.
“Don’t Stop !!!” I yelled, frantically wishing for Spencer to stop applying the brakes, in the event that the car would bounce off the guard rail into my passenger’s side door, or completely take out the back of the RV and the passing cars next to us. Spencer said when backs of RVs get hit, they fall apart like balsa wood, exploding into thin air.
I could only imagine all of our meager Dollar Tree furnishings strewn a mile along the riverbank. My mother has already lost her only brother and son in auto accidents, and all I could think was that if she’d had to come and collect my stuff, I hope she’d realize I was happy when I’d gone. And that she would have been proud I was wearing good underwear and had changed out of my snoopy pajamas before hitting the road.
Fortunately for us, the passing car was going so fast, that it plowed through the guard rail, then out of sight down the embankment.
Two hikers on the opposite side of the river said they heard what sounded like an explosion, then someone yelling “Help me!” They couldn’t get across the river.
We pulled off into a parking lot next to the firewood, 100 yards or so up the road. The lot was right next to the “320 Guest Ranch”. We would learn that the young 22 year old male driver of the car worked there. He was late for work, with only 2 more days left before he was to return to his homeland of Turkey. He was over on a student work visa, as many hotels in the area hire international students for the summer tourist season. He didn’t want to upset the boss.
Spencer raced through the meadow up to the scene of the accident. As soon as I could catch my breath, I dialed 911, fortunate for cell service. “It can’t be good” I babbled to the operator. “Please send the ambulance, and hurry.”
I raced up to meet Spencer, as quickly as my shaky legs would carry me. I’m glad we hadn’t had breakfast yet, as I would have thrown up.
A crowd had gathered, and people were peering down the hill. “Please don’t be dead” I prayed. Strangely, both Spencer and I had envisioned an older couple in the car, instead of the young Mario Andretti Turk who nearly lost his life.
The car had rolled down the embankment, before slamming top first into a lone and mighty pine on the hillside. Miraculously, the driver was able to climb up and out of the car, and was sitting on the hill below. I would later peer into his car, and think how lucky he was … The airbag in his dark green Ford Taurus had deployed, and the tree took out his windshield, missing his head by inches.
The driver had sped past two young ladies behind us, going nearly 80mph they estimated, before attempting to pass us. The gals had Medic First Aid training, and were applying a compress to a nasty wound on the driver’s forehead. Spencer is also a First Responder, and kicked himself for not grabbing our first aid kit. Next time, he said. Personally, I’m hoping there won’t be a next time ….
The Sheriff was first to arrive on the scene, and the ambulance wasn’t far behind. They got the young driver loaded onto a stretcher, and carried him up the hill. His skinny euro jeans were stained with blood, and his penny loafers and striped socks poked out from under the sheet. I couldn’t help but think he reminded me of the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz … Fortunate he wasn’t in a body bag.
The first car in the southbound lane contained your typical all-american family. The driver lived in Bozeman, and his in-laws were in for the week. They were driving down to Yellowstone for the day. His wife had been sitting in the middle seat, without a seatbelt on, so her young son could be safely strapped in.
The man nicknamed Spencer “Mr. Brakes”. And thanked him for saving all of our lives. “Stupidest passing move I’ve ever seen in all my years,” he commented.
We waited for the highway patrol personnel to arrive, a pretty young asian girl driving a very sporty black mustang. She drove down 30 miles from Bozeman, and I joked that she must really fly in that nice ride of hers. The laugh did me good, as I finally caught my breath.
I overheard the guy from Bozeman commenting to the Sheriff that something really needs to be done about this highway. There are just too many accidents. As we drove away, I noticed an aging “Accident Reduction Area” highway sign posted along the road.
As we continued on up to Big Sky Meadows, in desperate need of a stiff drink, I couldn’t help but count the white crosses that marked the roadside. Each one designating a lost soul, placed there by the American Legion. How fortunate that the highway didn’t receive 8 more white crosses that bright clear morning in big sky country.
The world seems in such a hurry these days.
Yoga practice has served me well – to stay mindful and to slow down. I appreciate the sign God just gave me as a reminder: Take it a day, a moment, at a time.
So the next time you find yourself behind some driver, lolly-gagging along, enjoying the scenery, I hope you’ll remember my story, and ask yourself: What’s the rush?
If you’re ready to die, then by all means, pass. But I’d suggest putting a brake on it. And taking in a deep breath of the sweet country air offered by mother earth, while God and the angles above still allow you to.
It’s best to arrive alive, better late than never.
