It was dark and raining hard that night. I was on my way back from delivering a broken down car to the nearest city dealership. I had left directly from the dealership, instead of spending the night; I get tired of sleeping in strange hotel rooms. I had decided to surprise my boss by coming back early so he had the use of the truck the next day.
Half way home, driving through the blinding rain I was beginning to second guess my own judgment. Rain slick roads, and the sheer mountain drop offs beside the roadside, had me slowed right down to a crawl. Still one hundred miles to go before I could reach my own bed, at this reduced speed would take me a least a couple of more hours unless this damned rain let up.
It had already been a hellish long day. The calls had started around 10 Am., mostly tourists locking their keys in their cars. Family men on vacation, who are too lazy or inept to change their own flat tires, the Asian family who were too engrossed watching the mountain scenery to pay attention to the road, driver included. Thankfully, these new cars are so safe now that even though the car was upside down on the rocks everyone escaped with minor cuts and bruises. I hope they took out the extra rental insurance, otherwise they just bought the rental agency a new car. Then about 10pm the call comes in about the last car. Family stranded 30 miles south of town, on their way home to the city. On warranty, deliver them to their home, take the car to the dealership and spend the night in the city.
So it's now 3 am and the tense driving conditions are beginning to take their toll on me. I've driven this highway so many times I could probably drive it in my sleep, but tonight that would be suicidal. Scanning my memory I know that there is a large roadside pullout about 10 miles ahead. Large enough, that there is room for my truck and at least an RV to safely sit off the road. Hopefully there are not two RV's parked there tonight.
The rain is really pouring down now, cats and dogs rain, as my mother used to say. Slowing down for the approaching corner, I know this one is bad. Wind and driving rain have fractured the rock face for thousands of years. Combined with our frigid winters and the action of the frost there is usually a scattering of small rocks on the road surface. Sometimes the larger ones, 12 inches or bigger, are plenty capable of ripping out the oil pan on even my taller truck.
Suddenly I see flashes of light. I can barely make it out, seems to be coming from the edge of the road. Easing on my brakes I turn on my strobes and warning beacon lights. I flick on my front spotting lights and I come to a gentle stop. Now I see someone waving a flashlight on the road edge. They come running up to the truck looking like a drowned cat. Long blond hair plastered down to their scalp wearing a light jacket, completely soaked to the bone. I invite them up into the cab of the truck.
In the interior light I see it's a young woman, completely sopping wet. Water dripping off her long hair and sodden clothes she sits down. Hastily I grab a blanket from behind the seat and hand it to her. I tell her to wrap herself up. She's shivering with cold.
With chattering teeth she explains that she came around the corner and seen the rocks on the road and panicked. She swerved to the left lane to avoid the rocks but was going to fast, and spun around and headed into the ditch. When she came to a stop her small RV was completely off the highway stuck in the wet soft shoulder. All she could see from the driver's seat was her headlights pointing out into empty space. Hurriedly she scrambled out the rear door grabbing nothing but a flashlight. She had been huddled up against the cliff on the inside lane waiting for hours for anyone to come and help her. She was too scared to climb back into the RV to grab even a heavier jacket, afraid that it might slide further down the slope into thin air.
I cranked up the cab heater onto high and grabbed my rain jacket and a flashlight and told her to wait in the truck and warm up while I went to investigate. It was an impressive sight. Her front tires were about 12 inches away from dropping off a steep incline down a slope of broken rock that was at least several hundred feet deep. The wet shoulder had her RV mired in to the bottom of both front and rear axles. It was going to be a wet messy job to bring it back onto the pavement. I couldn't tell if there was any damage to the underside, hopefully there weren't any large rocks wedged up underneath the vehicle.
Climbing into the cab, I briefly explained to her what I was going to do. Grabbing my rain pants I hurriedly slipped into them. Grabbing flares and reflective triangles I set them up on both sides of the corner. Thankfully I would be winching from the apex of the corner so there would be no excuse for anyone to run into me as I was winching with the truck sitting across both lanes.
Climbing back into the truck I had to wipe the insides of the windows. Her being saturated with cold water and the high heat had completely fogged up all the windows. At least she was no longer shivering. She was still shaking though, but now I could see she was quietly sobbing. She explained that she had been so scared of dying alone in the cold lonely mountains that the adrenaline was just started to wear off.
Consoling her briefly as I positioned the truck, I handed her my jacket to wrap up in.
I felt mean spirited as I explained to her that I had to recover her RV as quickly as possible while my flares lasted. The last thing I wanted was to stop halfway while winching to set out new flares. Some people are just stupid enough that if they were speeding they might not see the truck in time to stop.
