Driving Safe During Winter: A Tale of Experience

It was a beautifully sunny day in January, and I awoke to a household which was eagerly preparing for a ski trip. My mother, Doris, was preparing all the necessities that our family would need that day, while my dad, Ted, packed the car. Because my sister Christina and I were much younger then, we didn't have much work to do. We ate a breakfast of cold cereal, and followed our parent's instructions as to what to bring and put in our van.

When I looked outside, I saw that God had blessed us with a cool, crisp, beautiful winter day. The sun was climbing steadily up the blue Idahoan sky, and cast it's warm light like a blanket over the small, snowy town of Mountain Home.

My family piled into our car and we set off on the short ride to the Hines' house, a family who was to attend the trip with us. We had met them several years ago, in England, and had immediately become best friends. Since my dad and Mr. Hines were in the Air Force, we both moved around often. After three years in England, our family got assigned to Mountain Home Air Force Base, and the Hines were lucky enough to get the same assignment. We had both bought houses that were fairly close; less than three minutes apart by bike.

It had been decided earlier that Mr. Hines (my sister and I call him "Mr. Uncle Ben") would stay home with the two smallest of his three boys, while the eldest brother Benjamin and his mother would come with us. We decided to take their van, because the trip up the mountain threatened to be icy, and their Ford Aerostar was equipped with snow tires while our Aerostar was not.

Once we transferred our belongings into their car, we were off! Waving to Mr. Uncle Ben and the two littlest boys, each of us were silently dreading the long drive ahead. We cruised out of town, my father at the wheel. Out of town, we headed towards some snowy mountains, and a ski resort they called "Pommerelle".

The drive was somewhat uneventful. Benjamin, Christina, and I were seated in the far back. Mrs. Hines (my sister and I call her "Miss Aunt Donna") was seated next to some ski gear in the middle, and my mother rode in the passenger's seat. Benjamin and I read until the ascent began, and the road became perilous. The adults talked, and Christina gazed absent-mindedly as the picturesque scenery fled past, covered in crystalline, glittering snow.

The sky became a little hazy, threatening to snow. We pressed on, the poor engine pulling the loaded van up the steep incline. Soon the road became icy, and my dad was forced to pay attention to the ominous conditions.

"Well," he stated, "we should be there any time now!" A powerful cheer erupted from the rear of the car, where the kids sat.

"Can't you just imagine?" Benjamin asked. Indeed we could: shooting like bullets on skis down dangerous slopes, the wind stinging our faces, the exhilaration of speed. All of these thoughts swirled around our young minds as the drive continued.

A while later, a car in front of us began going extremely slow, and my dad sped up to pass him. My mother warned him multiple times to slow down and take precaution in the dismal weather and treacherous curves. He acknowledged her concerns, but pressed on to pass the slow vehicle in front of us.

What passed in the following seconds seemed like a horrifying eternity. We were halfway past the sluggish car when a particularly steep curve came into view. My dad tapped on the brakes (the best way to slow down on ice) to get behind the leading car once again. The edge rapidly approached, but we didn't seem to be slowing or turning. The van rushed up towards the cliff and a jolting lurch announced that my father had failed in his attempt to make the curve.

The van leaned at a precarious forty-five degree angle forwards and to the left. The atmosphere was thick with horror, and was permeated only by the terrified screams of my sister. "Pray to Jesus!!!" Miss Aunt Donna yelled. My mother attempted to open her door, which was nearly straight up! It took an immense physical effort to lift the great burden, and once this was accomplished, she turned to help Miss Aunt Donna with the sliding door.

Benjamin was mortified and clambered over Christina shrieking, "Every man for himself!!!!!" Miss Aunt Donna tore Christina's arm and flung her heavily from the van. Only my dad and I remained in the car. I inched my way from the far left rear to the side door, and my dad stared transfixed down the incredibly steep cliff from which the van was about to fall. He came to his senses and soon inched his way to the side door much the same way I did.

The car was rescued later that day by a tow truck, and needless to say we all survived to tell our tale (also needless to say, we didn't do much skiing that day). Being inches from death taught us all a lesson in God's faith, and driving safely during the winter months.