Most people have probably experienced a few minor fender benders in their lifetime. Sometimes a more serious accident can occur. Sometimes an animal can jump out in front doing damage to the car. Accidents can happen anytime and anywhere. It just takes a split second to alter someone's life forever. Luckily I have never been in a major accident. The few that I have been in have been really minor. The largest animal that has crossed my path has been a raccoon. The raccoon has done some minor damage to my car and I was thankful the tires to my vehicle took its revenge.
In my first accident good ol' Murphy was looming nearby. I was 16 in the year of 1993 and received my license a few months before. I have been driving for some time before that as friends would let me drive their car. A guy that I was dating at the time and I wanted to do a little shopping. There was a Family Dollar Store on the other side of town, probably not on the best side of town, that I liked going to. My mom gave me strict instructions not to go on the other side of town and to stick on our side of the Saginaw River. I had the guy I was dating drive my mom's 1988 Cadillac Eldorado. That was another rule I was breaking that day. No one except immediate family was supposed to drive that car. He pulls into the strip mall parking lot and drives slowly down the main aisle. A lady who was not paying attention comes flying down one of the side aisles and T-bones the side of the Cadillac. A huge dent appeared in the side of the car. I felt doomed. Here I was in a place I wasn't supposed to be, with someone else driving the car and someone runs into me. Needless to say I was grounded for a long time.
Two years had passed. During that time we moved to Grandville. I was driving down Chicago Drive, with the same car as the previous accident, approaching the intersection of Wilson. There were a line cars in the right lane. I was in the left lane slowing down my speed to stop at the red light. A car in the right lane became inpatient and tried to steer into the left lane. He didn't look around before he made the maneuver because as he pulled out he rammed into the front right side of the Cadillac. The light cracked and there was damage all the way up to the door. The officer who came on the scene afterwards finished pulling off the trim off the wheel well cutting his hand. The other driver was cited for the accident. The Cadillac, again, had to be shipped off to the shop to get fixed.
That winter I was attending college at Grand Valley State University. I was driving through the campus one evening heading back to my dorm at Kistler Hall. I was stopping at every crosswalk letting students pass by. I look up in my rearview mirror and seen a plow truck, which is plow raised, coming right at me. His speed wasn't slowing. I looked ahead of me and watched the students walking in front of the Cadillac. I couldn't move. I closed my eyes and pressed harder on the break. SMASH! The car lurched forward. The students in front of the car jumped out of the way. I put the car into park and stepped outside. The driver of the plow truck put his truck in reverse a bit and stepped out of the truck. We both met behind the car to examine the damage. Amazingly there was none. Those who witnessed the accident even had to look. They were impressed that there wasn't even a ding on the bumper. We resumed on our way and I pulled into the parking lot near my dorm. The plow truck followed me. I was nervous as he already told me that he was watching other students and wasn't paying attention to the road. I didn't want him behind me again in case something else catches his eyes. I found my way to a parking spot and he parked the truck right behind the Cadillac. He got out of the vehicle. He told me he had to look again at my bumper and he was shocked that there wasn't any damage. He even admitted that he hit me rather hard too. I told him I could feel how hard he hit me.
The last accident I got into happened when I wasn't even in the vehicle. It was late in the year of 2005. I just dropped Christian, Elizabeth, and Ashton off to a private school they attended in Reed City. James was 3 years old and I had Halvor who was about 3 or 4 months old. Snow had fallen early that morning making things slick. A plow truck was shaving off the layer of snow and pushing it off to the side. I pulled into the local grocery store and parked up front. I was walking up to the doors when I had a feeling to turn around. As I did I noticed a car traveling towards my car. I looked at the wheels and I noticed they were not spinning. The car kept moving. All I could do was shake my head in disbelief as I watch her crash into the back side of our Plymouth Voyager. She did a great deal of damage to it. I head back to the van and place the boys back into their car seats. We exchange driver information. She was very apologetic. I remember thinking that she shouldn't apologize when in an accident because it proves she was a fault, even if she is at fault. I reassured her that I wasn't upset and I clearly seen that the weather played a factor to the incident. Her insurance ended up paying for the repair to my van even the co-pay.
I haven't had an accident since then.
Showing posts with label 1996. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1996. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
The Perils of Not Checking the Oil
It was around the fall of 1995 when Brian purchased an Eddie Bauer, 2 door, Ford Bronco II, navy blue with cream trim. It even had a sunroof with it. He bought it after his older pick-up truck, that we called Big Blue, went out. He had to take a loan out for it and he was nervous on doing so because he never had a loan from a bank before. He looked at the sales man who wanted to offer us a 2 year loan contract and Brian said, "Two years? I don't know if I can make a commitment that long!" He said that meaning more of where the economy might be in two years and where he would be financially.
I looked at him wide-eyed, "You CAN'T make a two year commitment yet you want me to marry you? At least I am finding this out now!" We all laughed.
He eventually made the purchase and he was enslaved for a little over $220 a month for the next few years. While he was out trucking over the road he let me use it at college as long as I would pick him up when he returned back home. My mom's husband's family was having a get together at Michigan's Adventure in Muskegon. Brian said I could use the Bronco to drive there. While leaving the park I noticed the beige tire cover on the back was missing. I felt horrible. When I told Brian about it he laughed and said we could get another one and that it was no big deal, We never did replace it. Even now as we see a Bronco similar to what ours was we check to see if the tire cover is on theirs.
I remember my sister and I would go shopping and we would try to fit her daughter's infant car seat in the back. She had to hold her daughter while I had to twist the car seat around at different angles and upside down and wiggle its way to the back seat. After I got it in the backseat I had to climb in the back myself to buckle it in. My sister would pass her daughter over to me and I would place her in the infant car seat and buckle her in. It really took some talent and time get the infant car seat all set up properly.
Fast forward several months to late summer in 1996. I was 19 and finished off my first year at Grand Valley State University and I moved in with Brian. We lived on the boarder line of Gobles and Allegan in Michigan. We just found out we were expecting our first little baby in April the following year. He was busy trucking for TML out of Grand Rapids and I worked for Family Dollar in Allegan. Things were going good for us.
It was a Sunday when the unthinkable happened. I had my friend Rhonda over and we were watching Scott (Brian's brother's son) who was around 11 or 12 at the time. Brian called from a payphone to tell me that he was on his way to Grand Rapids and to come and pick him up from the TML terminal. I was so excited. It was a week since I had seen him last. We all piled into the Bronco and made our way north to Grand Rapids.
We were having a good ol' time of singing to the radio songs and driving north on U.S. 131 coming near the Cutlerville area when the Bronco started to shake real bad and make loud noises. I reached over and shut off the radio so I can hear the sounds better. The steering wheel wobbled heavily in my hand. Something was seriously wrong. A rest area was just coming up on our right (the rest area has now been torn down for the construction of M-6). I managed to work the wheel to pull into there and find a parking spot.
We all get out and I lift the hood and look into the engine. I had no idea what I was looking at. The parts I was looking at were dark and dirty looking. I didn't know what to do. Rhonda and Scott were just clueless at what was going on. I knew something wasn't right and that I shouldn't be driving it. Even if I could drive it the Bronco was nearly impossible to control. I was so close to Grand Rapids yet too far to tempt to drive it or to walk. We were stuck there at the rest area.
I go over to the pay phones and called my sister. I was running low on coins so I had to be specific and brief in what I said. I told her the Bronco broke down and that she needed to have her husband Doug drive out to where Brian worked, pick him up and tell him we are broke down. The downside was that they didn't know exactly where Brian's terminal was and I didn't know the street names to tell her. I just remembered the route by going with Brian several times before. The task couldn't be done.
We went back to the Bronco and stared at the engine as if by magic it would fix itself and remove us from this horrible situation. A middle aged man nearby was going through the garbage bins looking for soda bottles. He noticed our drama and started to make his way towards us. He said he knew a little bit about cars and asked if he could help. I figured it couldn't hurt any if he looked at it. I motioned for him to take a glance. He started to twist off caps and pull some sort of measuring sticks out of the engine.
I just wanted to take this moment to explain my background knowledge of cars. The only thing I knew about cars was put the key in the ignition, how to put in gas, mover the shifter bar to drive and reverse, how to break, how to press on the gas pedal, how to use my blinker, how to turn on the lights, how to use my wipers and how to turn on the radio. Outside of my little circle of knowledge about cars I knew nothing. I was completely ignorant. I didn't care to learn about it. I just want a car to go from point A to point B. I had no interest in the mechanics of how it worked.
The man looks up with a grim look on his face. "Your dipstick is dry."
I look at him blankly, "and that means....."
He shot me a glace to see if I seriously didn't know or if I was being sarcastic. "You are without oil. Do you have any on you?"
I still didn't know what to think. I told him I didn't have any on me. I couldn't even tell anyone where to pick any up at. He said he would see if he had any in his car. I walked over with him and he had a son about 8 or 9 years old in the old rundown car. I felt bad for him and his misfortune but ironically he was the one who seemed to feel bad for me and expressed concern. He fumbled through his trunk and pulled out a few black bottles. He tried to add it to the Bronco. He asked for me to start it up and it sounded loud and shook violently. He immediately told me to shut it off.
"I think you have blown a rod." Again I give him a blank look as I have no clue to what he is talking about, "Do you have far to go?"
"I am on my way to pick up my boyfriend. He's a truck driver." I reply back.
"How about if I give you all a ride to him?" he asks.
I look over at Rhonda and Scott. I didn't know what to do. I know we are not supposed to take rides from strangers. His car looked like it was ready to fall apart as it is and we just seen him go through the garbage. Do we dare go with him? I know if bad things happen Rhonda and I are old enough to take care of ourselves but I had my nephew to think about. It wasn't just my life I was putting at risk if I took the offer for a ride, it was another person's life. On the other hand I couldn't just stay there with everyone either. I said a little prayer of protection from God. "Alright." I said.
Before we left I called my sister one last time to let her know I was getting a ride to Brian's work. She thought I was crazy for getting a ride but I felt as if I didn't have a choice.
We proceeded our way north down the highway. Rhonda and Scott sat in the back along with his son. I felt secure keeping my hand on the door's handle. I found myself concentrating to keep breathing. I was so scared. I kept looking back at Scott and Rhonda making sure they were okay. The man obeyed every direction I gave him. I started to feel relieved that he was truly going to take us to Brian's work and not kidnap us. I was very thankful when he turned into the trucking terminal and Brian was there waiting for us.
He talked with the man about the condition of the Bronco. It all seemed like doctor's jargon - a language only they can understand. All of it seemed so foreign to me. Shortly, the man and his son left. Brian told us that TML granted us permission to take the semi home and we should hop in. Rhonda and Scott were excited about getting into the semi truck. I had already been in a semi before and I do enjoy the rides. But I knew Brian was upset and I wasn't going to enjoy this ride home.
He asked me why I didn't check the oil. I told him I never knew I had to check the oil. I also told him I never knew how or where to check the oil. He grew up working around cars and trucks so for him it was all second nature. He didn't understand how I didn't know. He explained to me that oil is like the car's blood and without it a car cannot run. I still didn't understand the depths of it all. I kept thinking just add more oil and it will be okay. But Brian further explained that by not having oil in the Bronco it kills the engine and the whole engine would need to be replaced which is very expensive. We still owed on the Bronco and we couldn't even use it. Now I was starting to see how major of a deal this whole thing was. I felt beyond horrible.
He made his way around Grand Rapids so we could head back to the rest stop. He looks the Bronco over and declares that the engine is blown. He wasn't happy to say the least and I don't blame him for being mad. It was silent for a moment as we made our way back home. Rhonda, sitting on the bed in the bunk, broke the silence to ask Brian a bunch of questions about the trucking industry. It sort of calmed him down talking about it.
We did make it back home and eventually purchased another vehicle from the side of the road and that is a whole other blog in itself. The Bronco wouldn't of made a good use for a family vehicle anyway but I would of rather tried selling it rather than having the motor blow out on it. Now I am a little wiser in checking the oil and learning where to take the car for oil changes. It was an expensive lessoned learned.
I looked at him wide-eyed, "You CAN'T make a two year commitment yet you want me to marry you? At least I am finding this out now!" We all laughed.
He eventually made the purchase and he was enslaved for a little over $220 a month for the next few years. While he was out trucking over the road he let me use it at college as long as I would pick him up when he returned back home. My mom's husband's family was having a get together at Michigan's Adventure in Muskegon. Brian said I could use the Bronco to drive there. While leaving the park I noticed the beige tire cover on the back was missing. I felt horrible. When I told Brian about it he laughed and said we could get another one and that it was no big deal, We never did replace it. Even now as we see a Bronco similar to what ours was we check to see if the tire cover is on theirs.
I remember my sister and I would go shopping and we would try to fit her daughter's infant car seat in the back. She had to hold her daughter while I had to twist the car seat around at different angles and upside down and wiggle its way to the back seat. After I got it in the backseat I had to climb in the back myself to buckle it in. My sister would pass her daughter over to me and I would place her in the infant car seat and buckle her in. It really took some talent and time get the infant car seat all set up properly.
Fast forward several months to late summer in 1996. I was 19 and finished off my first year at Grand Valley State University and I moved in with Brian. We lived on the boarder line of Gobles and Allegan in Michigan. We just found out we were expecting our first little baby in April the following year. He was busy trucking for TML out of Grand Rapids and I worked for Family Dollar in Allegan. Things were going good for us.
It was a Sunday when the unthinkable happened. I had my friend Rhonda over and we were watching Scott (Brian's brother's son) who was around 11 or 12 at the time. Brian called from a payphone to tell me that he was on his way to Grand Rapids and to come and pick him up from the TML terminal. I was so excited. It was a week since I had seen him last. We all piled into the Bronco and made our way north to Grand Rapids.
We were having a good ol' time of singing to the radio songs and driving north on U.S. 131 coming near the Cutlerville area when the Bronco started to shake real bad and make loud noises. I reached over and shut off the radio so I can hear the sounds better. The steering wheel wobbled heavily in my hand. Something was seriously wrong. A rest area was just coming up on our right (the rest area has now been torn down for the construction of M-6). I managed to work the wheel to pull into there and find a parking spot.
We all get out and I lift the hood and look into the engine. I had no idea what I was looking at. The parts I was looking at were dark and dirty looking. I didn't know what to do. Rhonda and Scott were just clueless at what was going on. I knew something wasn't right and that I shouldn't be driving it. Even if I could drive it the Bronco was nearly impossible to control. I was so close to Grand Rapids yet too far to tempt to drive it or to walk. We were stuck there at the rest area.
I go over to the pay phones and called my sister. I was running low on coins so I had to be specific and brief in what I said. I told her the Bronco broke down and that she needed to have her husband Doug drive out to where Brian worked, pick him up and tell him we are broke down. The downside was that they didn't know exactly where Brian's terminal was and I didn't know the street names to tell her. I just remembered the route by going with Brian several times before. The task couldn't be done.
We went back to the Bronco and stared at the engine as if by magic it would fix itself and remove us from this horrible situation. A middle aged man nearby was going through the garbage bins looking for soda bottles. He noticed our drama and started to make his way towards us. He said he knew a little bit about cars and asked if he could help. I figured it couldn't hurt any if he looked at it. I motioned for him to take a glance. He started to twist off caps and pull some sort of measuring sticks out of the engine.
I just wanted to take this moment to explain my background knowledge of cars. The only thing I knew about cars was put the key in the ignition, how to put in gas, mover the shifter bar to drive and reverse, how to break, how to press on the gas pedal, how to use my blinker, how to turn on the lights, how to use my wipers and how to turn on the radio. Outside of my little circle of knowledge about cars I knew nothing. I was completely ignorant. I didn't care to learn about it. I just want a car to go from point A to point B. I had no interest in the mechanics of how it worked.
The man looks up with a grim look on his face. "Your dipstick is dry."
I look at him blankly, "and that means....."
He shot me a glace to see if I seriously didn't know or if I was being sarcastic. "You are without oil. Do you have any on you?"
I still didn't know what to think. I told him I didn't have any on me. I couldn't even tell anyone where to pick any up at. He said he would see if he had any in his car. I walked over with him and he had a son about 8 or 9 years old in the old rundown car. I felt bad for him and his misfortune but ironically he was the one who seemed to feel bad for me and expressed concern. He fumbled through his trunk and pulled out a few black bottles. He tried to add it to the Bronco. He asked for me to start it up and it sounded loud and shook violently. He immediately told me to shut it off.
"I think you have blown a rod." Again I give him a blank look as I have no clue to what he is talking about, "Do you have far to go?"
"I am on my way to pick up my boyfriend. He's a truck driver." I reply back.
"How about if I give you all a ride to him?" he asks.
I look over at Rhonda and Scott. I didn't know what to do. I know we are not supposed to take rides from strangers. His car looked like it was ready to fall apart as it is and we just seen him go through the garbage. Do we dare go with him? I know if bad things happen Rhonda and I are old enough to take care of ourselves but I had my nephew to think about. It wasn't just my life I was putting at risk if I took the offer for a ride, it was another person's life. On the other hand I couldn't just stay there with everyone either. I said a little prayer of protection from God. "Alright." I said.
Before we left I called my sister one last time to let her know I was getting a ride to Brian's work. She thought I was crazy for getting a ride but I felt as if I didn't have a choice.
We proceeded our way north down the highway. Rhonda and Scott sat in the back along with his son. I felt secure keeping my hand on the door's handle. I found myself concentrating to keep breathing. I was so scared. I kept looking back at Scott and Rhonda making sure they were okay. The man obeyed every direction I gave him. I started to feel relieved that he was truly going to take us to Brian's work and not kidnap us. I was very thankful when he turned into the trucking terminal and Brian was there waiting for us.
He talked with the man about the condition of the Bronco. It all seemed like doctor's jargon - a language only they can understand. All of it seemed so foreign to me. Shortly, the man and his son left. Brian told us that TML granted us permission to take the semi home and we should hop in. Rhonda and Scott were excited about getting into the semi truck. I had already been in a semi before and I do enjoy the rides. But I knew Brian was upset and I wasn't going to enjoy this ride home.
He asked me why I didn't check the oil. I told him I never knew I had to check the oil. I also told him I never knew how or where to check the oil. He grew up working around cars and trucks so for him it was all second nature. He didn't understand how I didn't know. He explained to me that oil is like the car's blood and without it a car cannot run. I still didn't understand the depths of it all. I kept thinking just add more oil and it will be okay. But Brian further explained that by not having oil in the Bronco it kills the engine and the whole engine would need to be replaced which is very expensive. We still owed on the Bronco and we couldn't even use it. Now I was starting to see how major of a deal this whole thing was. I felt beyond horrible.
He made his way around Grand Rapids so we could head back to the rest stop. He looks the Bronco over and declares that the engine is blown. He wasn't happy to say the least and I don't blame him for being mad. It was silent for a moment as we made our way back home. Rhonda, sitting on the bed in the bunk, broke the silence to ask Brian a bunch of questions about the trucking industry. It sort of calmed him down talking about it.
We did make it back home and eventually purchased another vehicle from the side of the road and that is a whole other blog in itself. The Bronco wouldn't of made a good use for a family vehicle anyway but I would of rather tried selling it rather than having the motor blow out on it. Now I am a little wiser in checking the oil and learning where to take the car for oil changes. It was an expensive lessoned learned.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Blood on the Ice
Ever have one of those moments where you are at the wrong place at the right time? Have you ever been in a place where you know you really shouldn"t be but you went against your better judgement and it turned out for the best? I know situtations like that rarely happen but for this moment it happened to me.
It was January of 1996. Tip-Up-Town was going on at Houghton Lake, Mi. It is like a winter carnival on ice. Growing up I loved going there and participating in some of the winter games of tug-of-war, egg catch, and pie eating contest. The ice sculptures were always amazing and there was always an ice slide for the kids. But Tip-Up-Town in a whole different blog by itself.
I was a few weeks shy of turning 19 and in my second semester at Grand Valley State University. The weekend was approaching and I mentioned to my friends about heading up to Tip-Up-Town and staying at our family cabin for the weekend. A lot of them never heard of it and were ready to go check it out. We loaded up 3 or 4 different cars and headed north for a fun filled weekend.
We arrived Friday night and decided to check out the festival Saturday morning. It was good and busy there. One of my friends Rebecca and I participated in the pie eating contest, of which I got second. My prize was a free dinner and drink to a local pub. It wouldn't be so bad if I was over 21 but bragging rights was still there for second place. I remember it being very cold and most of us started to huddle in the warming tent. We decided to go home and to come back later in the evening for the dance. It was fun as it should be.
Sunday morning came upon us. I was awake, along with just a few others, to greet the sun rising up in the east over the frozen lake. It was quiet and peaceful except for the distant sounds of the snowmobilers darting back and forth in front of the cabin. Small talk was spoken while some smoked their cigarettes and others drank their coffee. While we talked we kept our eyes on the snowmobilers out front. At some point of the freezing process of the lake the ice shifted creating a style of ramp out in front of our cabin. The snowmobilers were having fun zooming fast over the ramp and giving them a lift in the air on their snowmobiles. It was cheap entertainment for us early risers.
While we sat there watching, this one snowmobile was going extremely fast. He went up on the nature-made ice ramp and lost control of what he was doing. The snowmobile flew straight up in the air at a good height then did a flip forward and nose dived in the unyielding hard ice below. The snowmobiler flew off the sky-rocketing machine like a rag doll and came crashing down onto the ice. Upon impact with the ice his helmet popped off and slid across the ice spinning. When we saw the snowmobile fly up into the air we all gasped. It was like watching some action movie but you knew this was real and there wasn't an air bag below to catch the daredevil. A few of us quickly stood up and others yelled out before the guy even hit the ground. It was like everything happened in slow motion yet there was nothing anyone could do to stop what was about to happen. We just knew it wasn't going to end nice.
"SOMEONE RUN DOOR TO DOOR TO FIND SOMEONE WITH A PHONE AND CALL 911!" I yelled while dashing out the door in my socks and pajamas to the lake where the snowmobiler laid. At that time most people didn't carry around cell phones. Our cabin didn't have a phone line because we didn't use the cabin that much. Beepers were not even around to the general person yet. Our neighbors closed up their cabins for the winter so I wasn't sure who they could find to call. I just prayed they had to find a phone and quick.
The snow was about ankle deep with drifts here and there. I didn't care. This man needed help. I couldn't feel the weather. I think my body was in shock of what I had witnessed that it didn't care. His friend/snowmobile partner was already there calling out his name, which I cannot remember, and not getting a response. I knelt down beside him and took off his glove and held his hand and told him that help was on its way. He had a sky mask that covered his face. His eyes were closed. He didn't move. I was scared. I looked around and seen pieces of his snowmobile laying about. The skies were snapped off and broken. The front hood was torn up and bits of it were lying around. The plexiglass windshield was busted in a few pieces. My God, how can anyone survive this? Please let him be okay, I prayed to myself.
I put my finger under his nose to feel his breathing. It was light but I could feel it. It was hard to see his chest rising with the heavy snowsuit he was wearing. My roommate, Laurie, my friend Rhonda, and a few others came out with their blankets to put around him. His friend wanted to see if we can move him off the ice and up closer to the road in wait for the ambulance. We shouted no at him and let him know that we don't know his injuries and we don't want to cause further injury. The ice was thick. There was no danger of us falling through. The best bet was to stay put. Jon and a man we called Bing, two of the guys that were with us, came running out to us saying they got hold of a neighbor several houses down and called 911. Good, I thought, he will get the help he needs.
A few moments pass. I guess in times like this the time cannot pass quick enough. The friend reaches up and starts to pull away at the skimask the injured man was wearing. We tried to protest but his friend said he was only going to remove it over his mouth only. Tenderly the man slowly pulled the mask over his mouth. I could see the lower part of his head. Blood started to pool on the ice. I felt so uncomfortable seeing that. I rubbed his hand some more reassuring that the ambulance was on its way.
At one point he started to moan and he tried to make some movement to sit up. His eyes still couldn't open. I laid my hands on his sholders and told him not to move, that he needed to be still. Everyone was coaxing him that he could not sit up and to stay laying down. He tried to resist but gave in and rested his body back on the ice. I took his hand in my hand again. My friends were still encircled around him giving him words of comfort and prayers.
We start to hear the ambulance. A few people ran up to the front of the cabin to wave down the ambulance. They quickly come across the yard with a sled type of transport. I released his hand and told him he was going to be okay now and I backed away to let the medical personnel do their work. They gently placed him on the sled and hauled him off, blankets and all. I looked back down and seen the blood stained ice and thought just an hour prior he was out here having a grand ol' time.
A short time after that a wrecker came to pick up the pieces to the snowmobile. A few of us walked around the ice picking up pieces and tossing them on the flatbed of the wrecker. The blood still stood out against the white snow and ice like a sore thumb. A few of the guys could tell we were bothered by it and grabbed more snow off the banks of the shore and covered it.
We went inside, all of us in shock of what just happened. I soon started to shiver. I don't know if it was because the cold finally sunk in or over the whole ordeal of what just happened. I didn't even know where they took him. There wasn't medical facilities around the area. The closest ones that I knew of were either Cadillac or West Branch. I heard his first name (which I forgot) but I never knew his last name. I have no idea what ever happened to him.
You see, I did not have permission to be at the lake. I never told my mom that we were going to the cabin that weekend. I guess that was part of my rebellious side that was still in me. I begin to think what if we weren't up there? I would of never had known an accident like that happened in front of our cabin. His friend would of had to leave him alone to go find help, which wasn't close by. He wouldn't of had the blankets to help keep him warm on the cold, hard ice. He wouldn't of had the group of people around him giving him words of encouragement and comfort. I hadn't been to Tip-Up-Town in about 10 years at that point. The one year I decide to go back this happens.
I do believe God does things for a purpose. He puts people where they need to be in the manner that they need to be there. We all complain about being caught up on traffic or being behind a slow moving car. But perhaps we are there for a reason. Maybe there is danger up the road and that slow moving car is preventing us from the danger at the moment. You never know.
It was January of 1996. Tip-Up-Town was going on at Houghton Lake, Mi. It is like a winter carnival on ice. Growing up I loved going there and participating in some of the winter games of tug-of-war, egg catch, and pie eating contest. The ice sculptures were always amazing and there was always an ice slide for the kids. But Tip-Up-Town in a whole different blog by itself.
I was a few weeks shy of turning 19 and in my second semester at Grand Valley State University. The weekend was approaching and I mentioned to my friends about heading up to Tip-Up-Town and staying at our family cabin for the weekend. A lot of them never heard of it and were ready to go check it out. We loaded up 3 or 4 different cars and headed north for a fun filled weekend.
We arrived Friday night and decided to check out the festival Saturday morning. It was good and busy there. One of my friends Rebecca and I participated in the pie eating contest, of which I got second. My prize was a free dinner and drink to a local pub. It wouldn't be so bad if I was over 21 but bragging rights was still there for second place. I remember it being very cold and most of us started to huddle in the warming tent. We decided to go home and to come back later in the evening for the dance. It was fun as it should be.
Sunday morning came upon us. I was awake, along with just a few others, to greet the sun rising up in the east over the frozen lake. It was quiet and peaceful except for the distant sounds of the snowmobilers darting back and forth in front of the cabin. Small talk was spoken while some smoked their cigarettes and others drank their coffee. While we talked we kept our eyes on the snowmobilers out front. At some point of the freezing process of the lake the ice shifted creating a style of ramp out in front of our cabin. The snowmobilers were having fun zooming fast over the ramp and giving them a lift in the air on their snowmobiles. It was cheap entertainment for us early risers.
While we sat there watching, this one snowmobile was going extremely fast. He went up on the nature-made ice ramp and lost control of what he was doing. The snowmobile flew straight up in the air at a good height then did a flip forward and nose dived in the unyielding hard ice below. The snowmobiler flew off the sky-rocketing machine like a rag doll and came crashing down onto the ice. Upon impact with the ice his helmet popped off and slid across the ice spinning. When we saw the snowmobile fly up into the air we all gasped. It was like watching some action movie but you knew this was real and there wasn't an air bag below to catch the daredevil. A few of us quickly stood up and others yelled out before the guy even hit the ground. It was like everything happened in slow motion yet there was nothing anyone could do to stop what was about to happen. We just knew it wasn't going to end nice.
"SOMEONE RUN DOOR TO DOOR TO FIND SOMEONE WITH A PHONE AND CALL 911!" I yelled while dashing out the door in my socks and pajamas to the lake where the snowmobiler laid. At that time most people didn't carry around cell phones. Our cabin didn't have a phone line because we didn't use the cabin that much. Beepers were not even around to the general person yet. Our neighbors closed up their cabins for the winter so I wasn't sure who they could find to call. I just prayed they had to find a phone and quick.
The snow was about ankle deep with drifts here and there. I didn't care. This man needed help. I couldn't feel the weather. I think my body was in shock of what I had witnessed that it didn't care. His friend/snowmobile partner was already there calling out his name, which I cannot remember, and not getting a response. I knelt down beside him and took off his glove and held his hand and told him that help was on its way. He had a sky mask that covered his face. His eyes were closed. He didn't move. I was scared. I looked around and seen pieces of his snowmobile laying about. The skies were snapped off and broken. The front hood was torn up and bits of it were lying around. The plexiglass windshield was busted in a few pieces. My God, how can anyone survive this? Please let him be okay, I prayed to myself.
I put my finger under his nose to feel his breathing. It was light but I could feel it. It was hard to see his chest rising with the heavy snowsuit he was wearing. My roommate, Laurie, my friend Rhonda, and a few others came out with their blankets to put around him. His friend wanted to see if we can move him off the ice and up closer to the road in wait for the ambulance. We shouted no at him and let him know that we don't know his injuries and we don't want to cause further injury. The ice was thick. There was no danger of us falling through. The best bet was to stay put. Jon and a man we called Bing, two of the guys that were with us, came running out to us saying they got hold of a neighbor several houses down and called 911. Good, I thought, he will get the help he needs.
A few moments pass. I guess in times like this the time cannot pass quick enough. The friend reaches up and starts to pull away at the skimask the injured man was wearing. We tried to protest but his friend said he was only going to remove it over his mouth only. Tenderly the man slowly pulled the mask over his mouth. I could see the lower part of his head. Blood started to pool on the ice. I felt so uncomfortable seeing that. I rubbed his hand some more reassuring that the ambulance was on its way.
At one point he started to moan and he tried to make some movement to sit up. His eyes still couldn't open. I laid my hands on his sholders and told him not to move, that he needed to be still. Everyone was coaxing him that he could not sit up and to stay laying down. He tried to resist but gave in and rested his body back on the ice. I took his hand in my hand again. My friends were still encircled around him giving him words of comfort and prayers.
We start to hear the ambulance. A few people ran up to the front of the cabin to wave down the ambulance. They quickly come across the yard with a sled type of transport. I released his hand and told him he was going to be okay now and I backed away to let the medical personnel do their work. They gently placed him on the sled and hauled him off, blankets and all. I looked back down and seen the blood stained ice and thought just an hour prior he was out here having a grand ol' time.
A short time after that a wrecker came to pick up the pieces to the snowmobile. A few of us walked around the ice picking up pieces and tossing them on the flatbed of the wrecker. The blood still stood out against the white snow and ice like a sore thumb. A few of the guys could tell we were bothered by it and grabbed more snow off the banks of the shore and covered it.
We went inside, all of us in shock of what just happened. I soon started to shiver. I don't know if it was because the cold finally sunk in or over the whole ordeal of what just happened. I didn't even know where they took him. There wasn't medical facilities around the area. The closest ones that I knew of were either Cadillac or West Branch. I heard his first name (which I forgot) but I never knew his last name. I have no idea what ever happened to him.
You see, I did not have permission to be at the lake. I never told my mom that we were going to the cabin that weekend. I guess that was part of my rebellious side that was still in me. I begin to think what if we weren't up there? I would of never had known an accident like that happened in front of our cabin. His friend would of had to leave him alone to go find help, which wasn't close by. He wouldn't of had the blankets to help keep him warm on the cold, hard ice. He wouldn't of had the group of people around him giving him words of encouragement and comfort. I hadn't been to Tip-Up-Town in about 10 years at that point. The one year I decide to go back this happens.
I do believe God does things for a purpose. He puts people where they need to be in the manner that they need to be there. We all complain about being caught up on traffic or being behind a slow moving car. But perhaps we are there for a reason. Maybe there is danger up the road and that slow moving car is preventing us from the danger at the moment. You never know.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
The Box Lied
It was early Fall of 1996. I was in my second half of my 19th year. My husband and I just acquired our first place. Adult life was suddenly handed over to me whether I was ready or not. What older people fail to tell younger people is that relationships need tweaking. Not everything falls into place perfectly. The husband has his ideas of how life should be and the wife has her ideas and not all the time do they match. Disappointments and arguments soon follow. That is not always bad - it is a part of learning each other and growing together as a couple.
I was never a susie homemaker type of person. As a teen I was always out working or taking part of some after-school activity or just hanging around with friends. Home was for sleeping and grabbing a meal here and there. When there was cooking being done by my mom I was far from it. It just never interested me. As a young teen I remember thinking Why cook when there are so many resturants around. When I met my husband I worked as a waitress at a resturant. I could serve food but I just couldn't prepare it. I could fix up smaller things - popcorn, a bowl of cereal, scrambled eggs (not fried or hard boiled), box mix cake, tv dinners and pot pies. If it pretty much came prepackage I could do it. My husband must of thought that all women just knew how to cook. It was somehow in our DNA. The women in his life were all decent cooks. His stepmom even owned a resturant! Women and food just naturally went together. My working in a resturant must of made him think that I enjoyed being in the kitchen. Nope! I proved him wrong about women and the kitchen.
One evening I went to prepare the meal. One perk of being a wife of an over-the-road truck driver was that I didn't have to cook very often. Or cook to impress that is. I opened up a box of mac-n-cheese and prepared it just as the directions said. I put a little in a bowl for me (I just like eating mine out of a bowl) and a little in a bowl for him. He looks down at the cheesie noodles, "What else are we having with it?"
Having WITH it?! The idea never crossed my mind! I blankly looked at him and told him this was dinner. He went on to inform me that mac-n-cheese is not a dinner, it is a side dish! I thought for a moment. Mac-n-cheese sounded good. I didn't know what else he wanted. I held up the empty box, "It is TOO a dinner. See," I show him the box, "It says so right here!" I even pointed to the word dinner.
I was never a susie homemaker type of person. As a teen I was always out working or taking part of some after-school activity or just hanging around with friends. Home was for sleeping and grabbing a meal here and there. When there was cooking being done by my mom I was far from it. It just never interested me. As a young teen I remember thinking Why cook when there are so many resturants around. When I met my husband I worked as a waitress at a resturant. I could serve food but I just couldn't prepare it. I could fix up smaller things - popcorn, a bowl of cereal, scrambled eggs (not fried or hard boiled), box mix cake, tv dinners and pot pies. If it pretty much came prepackage I could do it. My husband must of thought that all women just knew how to cook. It was somehow in our DNA. The women in his life were all decent cooks. His stepmom even owned a resturant! Women and food just naturally went together. My working in a resturant must of made him think that I enjoyed being in the kitchen. Nope! I proved him wrong about women and the kitchen.
One evening I went to prepare the meal. One perk of being a wife of an over-the-road truck driver was that I didn't have to cook very often. Or cook to impress that is. I opened up a box of mac-n-cheese and prepared it just as the directions said. I put a little in a bowl for me (I just like eating mine out of a bowl) and a little in a bowl for him. He looks down at the cheesie noodles, "What else are we having with it?"
Having WITH it?! The idea never crossed my mind! I blankly looked at him and told him this was dinner. He went on to inform me that mac-n-cheese is not a dinner, it is a side dish! I thought for a moment. Mac-n-cheese sounded good. I didn't know what else he wanted. I held up the empty box, "It is TOO a dinner. See," I show him the box, "It says so right here!" I even pointed to the word dinner.
I don't really remember what happened next if he went off to his mom's for some real food or if he went out to eat. I remember sitting back and enjoying my bowl of mac-n-cheese shocked that someone just couldn't like it as it was. Then I looked at the big picture. I HAD to learn how to cook. I am going to have to fix dinners for the rest of my life and find something to please my husband with! The thought of trying to learn to cook made my stomach turn, either that or I put too much butter in with the mac-n-cheese. I couldn't tell which.
The next week I tried cooking up ham steaks for us using a cookbook. 400 degrees and an hour later they were a little crispy. Again, my husband was disappointed as he tried to fork out the charred piece of what was once a ham steak from the pan. I think the Lord must of heard his plea for help because a few moments later his friend and his wife came by and wondered if we wanted to join them for pizza at a local resturant. Finally, something edible!
Around the same time I had a friend from college come over to help me fix a dinner for my husband. She had to help me learn to brown hamburger. I have never done it before. Something as simple as browning hamburger was a clueless process to me years ago. I was so impressed by how easy it was. My mom has browned hamburger a zillion times but I never watched her do it. I never even gave the matter thought until then. I didn't care how it was done. I just wanted the finished product.
I have come a long way since then. Meatloaf took me about 10 times to get that right. Chicken - well, I have perfected it but I did it so wrong so many times that my husband cringes when I mention about fixing it. Now everything is like second nature. Even my mom is impressed that make my own granola and homemade biscuits and jellies. I am no Chef Gordon Ramsey by any means but a lot more of my meals impress my husband. Mararoni and cheese is no longer a dinner at our house. For lunch? well...that is another story.
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