It Fell From The Sky, or Absence and Disappointment, Part 4

Tuesday, May 5th, 2018, 5:54 am. 50.084684,-119.4990634.

Despite the reputation Westside Road has earned over the years, partly due to geography it was built on and how folks have and continue to drive on it, I really didn't see it as this "all hazardous route" that it has be reported to be over the years. Sure, this stretch of blacktop can be challenging at times and in spots, but being aware of what is going on around you and driving at the prescribed speeds can mitigate most dangers that could possibly appear.

However, this is that one time....

The job itself was straightforward enough, drive to an undisclosed location using Westside Road and keep an eye on seasonal cabins under threat from a landslide that had recently taken place in that area. First priority was to keep curious people away, for safety's sake. The second was to make a call to certain authorities should the hill let go or characters in black ski masks, carrying crowbars happen to appear.

It was starting into the second week of this and nothing exciting to report, save for the occasion deer wandering through the properties, they came and left empty....hoofed.

With my scheduled twelve hour night shift coming to a close and my forty five minute drive home about to begin, I made my preparations to depart. The only noteworthy things to make mention of was passing my boss coming to take over the day shift at the same location and how much my eyes were stinging from being awake during the hours when most other folks should have been sleeping. But, I knew I had enough energy and awareness to end my day safely at home. Or, so I thought.

It was merely twelve minutes into the trip home when the short series of events took place.

I was rounding a fairly gentle right hand bend, with a sloping hill to my right, a thin ribbon of grass and a cold lake below on my left, when a blur of movement caught my attention. Deer, was my first thought, but when my eyes focused, the curious word Rock came out loud from my mouth. A boulder the size of a basketball lands on the road, right in front of me.

I was stunned, but my brain quickly weighted the options. Right into the hillside, or left onto the grass and possibly into the lake? However, with my body tense from what had just transpired, there wasn't anytime to turn. The boulder passes under the front bumper, produces a loud and terrible impact sound and proceeds to get jammed under the oil pan.

Right about here is where time starts to slow right down. 

The impact sound turns quickly into a grinding noise, followed by an uplifting action in the front end of the car, breaking contact between the tires and the road. Turning the steering wheel was an exercise in futility, but I slowly applied the brake, hoping the rear wheels would start to slow the car down in a more controlled manner. A new sound, very similar to small rocks hitting the floor from underneath when driving down a gravel road, could be heard.

With the boulder starting to crumble, the front wheels touched enough pavement to regain control of the car and direct it towards the shoulder. A few bumps coming off the pavement dislodged the remaining chunk of boulder. I loud scrapping sound was produced as it passed from under the car and I coasted to a stop.

Although it felt like hours had past, in reality it had been less than a minute.

The car was dead, either the impact had shorted something out or a fail-safe program had kicked in to preserve the vehicle from further self inflicted damage. I sat there, on the gravel should with shaking hands and a mind trying to review what had just happened. First thing I did, once my senses came back, was call my boss. He was just down the road and after I told him what transpired, he dropped whatever he was doing and was on the way to the scene. The second call was to my wife. That one went a lot better that I thought it could have.

I stepped out of the car and quickly assessed the damage, based on what I could see without exerting too much effort. I was tired and thanks to my "rock and roll" incident, I was now drained of my reserve energy I had stored for the drive home and could barely stand. However, what I could see was the Dart had a destroyed oil pan and torn up plastic skidplate. I was reasonably sure there was some hidden damage that I couldn't see.

With my boss on the scene and my wife on her way to rescue me, I placed a call to the insurance claim line. The woman on the other end was pleasant and polite, very sympathetic to the details I gave her and made the necessary arrangements for the tow truck to come and recover my inoperable conveyance.

It had been two hours, from collision to recovery. Now came the longer part of remedy and repair.