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.
It was a wet and miserable recovery. Shoveling out a path underneath the RV so I could securely attach chains, I was soon covered in mud. The rain if anything was coming down harder. Colder too, it seemed, to make things more uncomfortable. I ended up setting out new flares twice, before I had completed winching it out of the ditch onto the hard pavement.
I moved the truck back to the inside shoulder lane against the cliff. I tried starting the RV up to get it parked safely behind my truck, but she had left her headlights on for too long and the batteries were completely dead. Once again I repositioned my truck in preparation of towing her RV. I still couldn't tell if there was any damage underneath, there was so much mud wedged up on the underside. Finally everything was all hooked up and ready to go. I walked back to collect all the spent flares and triangles.
One last trip into the ditch to make sure I hadn't left any tools and to shovel the ruts full so there wouldn't be any trace left after the rains let up. That was to keep the Park Wardens happy. I take pride in the fact that I leave a scene cleaner that it was before I arrived.
At least the driving rain had rinsed most of the mud off my rain coat and pants. Stripping them off outside the truck I tossed them in the tool box. Only then did I realize how much I had been sweating underneath them with all the work. Now I'm shivering as I climb back in the cab. My passenger is asleep with my jacket wrapped around her. I guess the stress she's been through just caught up with her. Oddly I don't even know her name yet. I crank up the heat again, and roll down my window a little so the windows don't fog up again. Hopefully there is no one parked in that roadside pullout. I was tired before, now I'm running on fumes.
Thankfully there is no one parked in the pullout. I drive right in with my passenger still asleep. I decide to let her sleep on a while longer. Jumping out of the truck I climb back into my wet muddy rain clothes. The ten miles of mountain road has shaken all the mud loose from her RV. With it still up in the air attached to my truck, I crawl underneath and take a close look. Amazingly there is no damage at all, just some mud up in the frame rails. A quick trip to the truck wash will clean that up. Lowering it down to the ground I unhook it and run out my cables to charge the batteries.
After charging her batteries sufficiently, I started up her RV and cranked up the heat so it'd be nice and warm for her. Gathering all the pertinent information I was ready to start writing out her recovery bill. Climbing once more out of my wet rain clothes I hopped back into the truck. My unknown passenger is still asleep in the cab. "Oh well, I'll let her continue on a while longer until I'm done the invoicing", I think to myself. Reading her rental agreement from the RV, I now know her name is Maria and she's from the southern end of the province. Odd that a young lady would be traveling by herself in a rented RV...
Completing her invoice, I gently shake her shoulder till she wakes up. After introducing myself I explain that I've completed the recovery, and that I've brought us to a safe pullout. Telling her that there is no damage to her RV and that it's warming up right behind us, it's time to discuss payment. She readily pays the fees in cash, and I hand her the receipt, and her rental agreement. I tell her I'll go grab her jacket, so she doesn't get soaked again, and check and see if her vehicle is warm enough.