God Sent Me a Semi-Truck

Ever since I moved here and began driving the Highway 6 canyon to visit my mother and brother’s family in Price, I always just kind of knew I was going to have a harrowing experience one day. Maybe it was just my fears, but it has haunted me every time I drive that canyon. Well, it finally happened and I can guarantee you, it won’t be happening again anytime soon.

First mistake: I started late in the day on Saturday to do a fast run down to visit my mom in the care facility. I hadn’t seen her in two weeks and felt bad about that. She doesn’t have a phone and I hadn’t gotten a note off to her and I wanted to cheer her up. I also needed to pick up some of her things at Barney and Carolyn’s. The trip down was flawless – beautiful weather.

Second mistake: Trusting the weather report. Rain was predicted later in the evening, but I knew I would be back long before it started.

I picked up the things I needed at Barney’s then drove to the care facility. I stayed longer than I planned visiting mom (my third mistake) but she really enjoyed my visit. I cried when I left because it is still hard for me to see her there. I said good-bye to my brother and got on the road. I knew I would be pushing it to get out of the canyon before dark, but felt that I might make it. Fifteen minutes into the canyon, I hit snow flurries at Scofield. I didn’t think too much of it because I knew the summit was approaching and I felt that once I got past that, it would turn to rain, if anything, and I could handle rain. Well, it didn’t turn to rain.

I continued on. I wondered whether I should turn back – I didn’t. Probably my biggest mistake of all. By the time I was halfway through the canyon, it was snowing much more heavily and the wind was blowing. I didn’t know if I was heading into the storm or if it was chasing me. I tried to make some calls to people at both ends of the canyon to see what kind of weather I was driving into or away from but I had already lost cell reception because of the mountains around me. I drove on.

I don’t remember much after this because I was so traumatized from this point on. I was alone and the highway was fairly empty. What I didn’t know was that the police closed the highway not long after I entered it because of the hazardous conditions. Little did I know I was driving straight into a canyon blizzard. The temperature was dropping rapidly outside and the snow was turning to ice the second it hit the road. I slowed down and began talking to myself and trying to encourage myself that I could do this. I thought of pioneers in handcarts, women alone on the plains and how they had to push ahead. As the storm began to rage around me, my talking turned to intense pleadings out loud, begging Heavenly Father to help me and guide me, tell me what to do. As the darkness closed in around me, I hit heavy fog that reduced my visibility to less than five feet in front of me. I had a hard time keeping my windshield clear and unfrosted and that alone freaked me out. I began to slide on the icy road while going up a hill. I was afraid to stop for fear of not being able to get enough traction to go again so I shifted down to my lowest gear and kept moving at 5-10 miles an hour. I also knew if I stopped, I might be hit by a semi-truck or I would freeze to death before anyone found me. I was in the middle of a tornado of snow – the wind was whirling the snow around me so fast and I was losing control of my car. I couldn’t see anything anymore. I lost my sense of bearing because there were no lights from other cars coming or going and I could no longer see the stripes on the road due to the snow and ice covering them. I thought I was going straight but I was headed towards the side of the road towards a snow marker. I stopped short of going off the road. I’m glad I don’t know how far the drop was. My pleadings were now outright screaming. At the very moment that I knew I was going to die, a semi-truck suddenly appeared! I almost hit the car following him; that is how quickly they came into view even though I was only going 5-10 miles per hour and still sliding around not knowing where I was going. How I caught up to them at my slow speed is beyond me. Maybe God picked me up and put me there, I honestly don’t know. No one could have been more surprised than me to suddenly see them. I began to follow them at close range and I didn’t care if I hit them; I was not about to lose sight of the only people I could see. The visibility was still less than 5 feet. I put on my flashers. By this time, I was shaking and crying so hard. For well over an hour, we crept along at 10 mph together going up and down the last of the hills that lead into the Spanish Fork Canyon entrance. I prayed for that semi-truck driver that he wouldn’t leave us and that he would be able to guide us out safely. And he did. As the fog began to lift in patches, I became aware of about 10-15 cars following us. This driver of this semi-truck is literally responsible for getting us all out safely. I also began to be aware of cars and semi-trucks pulled off to the side of the road and found out today that there were several jack-knifed semi-trucks deeper in the canyon that I had just come through.

I read a quote yesterday: COURAGE IS FEAR HOLDING ON A MINUTE LONGER – George S. Patton. Yes, it is. Just long enough for God to teach me a lesson about winter driving in the canyon and to send me a semi-truck.