Thursday, October 22, 2015

The Yellow Truck

This post is inspired by a prompt from Reflections of a Mother's Heart
The prompt was "Have your ever had a car accident?"

I never liked that truck anyway.

It was school bus yellow and flat out ugly. It had a standard transmission, the kind with the long gear shift. And worse, it smelled of the farm. Suffice it to say that I did not enjoy driving it when I had places to go. What teenage girl would?

The first time I drove it, I was sixteen and I only had my learner's permit. I’m not sure why, but everyone was gone somewhere. My brother, Alex, was out in the fields working and I was at the house. 

The phone rang. It was Alex.

“You have to come get me down at the blue barn.”

“No one is here to go. Everyone is gone but me and I don’t have a driver’s license.”

“Well, you have to come get me. One of the wheels fell off of the tractor.”

“The only vehicle here is the truck. I don't know how to drive it.”

“Do you know how to start it and get it in gear?”


“Just put it in 2nd and come.”

It was only a mile down the road and we lived way out in the country on a lonely country road, but that didn’t ease my mind. I was sure that the cops would be along any minute. .. Especially when they heard the truck engine blaring down the road.

I arrived safely and found Alex. He offered to drive home which I would hear nothing of because He was only 12. (We'll ignored the fact that a 12 year old, knew more about driving than a sixteen year old who was just about finished with Driver's Ed)

“Just tell me when to shift.”

And off we went again. I was never so glad to arrive at the house.

Maybe that experience is why I didn’t particularly like the truck. I don’t think it had to do with the standard transmission. After all, I later loved driving my sister’s 3-speed Mustang and when it came time to buy my own car, I insisted on purchasing a car with a manual transmission.

 Well … the question of the week is 
Have I ever had a car accident?

Ok. Ok. Stop laughing. I can hear the laughter from here.…. There are several stories I could share on the subject. But we’ll stick with the yellow pickup truck.

Let’s see, by now I was 17 or maybe 18… My little sister, Marcy and I were on our way to piano lessons one Saturday morning. 

Yes… in the yellow truck. 

Man, I hated that truck.

Now our farm was up on a hill, so you know, we had to descend the hill to get to a highway. It was a bright winter day. But cold. The road was covered with black ice.

Black ice is the type of ice on the road that one doesn’t see or realize that it is there until it’s too late.

This particular road is a short road. It’s just drops down the hill to the highway below. Across the highway lies the marshland. About halfway down, I applied the brakes to slow for the stop sign.

 And that’s when it started….

The truck begin to slide about. We dropped off the pavement to one side, so I counter-steered to make the adjustment. We popped back up on the road and on over to the other side of the road.

I counter steered again only to go right back across the road. All the time, we’re approaching the bottom of the hill. 

I counter steer again 

and again.

This time, I didn’t know what else to do and as the truck went into the ditch, I’m told I said,

“Here we go!”

Into the ditch, up and over. I think it only rolled to it’s side, but I felt like someone had thrown me into a clothes dryer as we toppled over.

When we came to a stop on the driver's side, I looked up to the passenger seat. My sister was no longer there. Since we didn’t have seat belts, she obviously was thrown around and down towards me, I think she landed above my head.

Someone happened by on the highway below, saw us, and came to our rescue. We weren’t hurt badly, but my leg was stuck between the steering wheel and the door. The man pulled up on the steering wheel and helped us out.

He took us back up to the house.

Now the scary part … 

Telling my parents.

I guess all teenagers think that parents will burst into a fit of anger when told that you wrecked their truck, but with knees knocking and probably tears flowing, I got the news out.

My parents were gracious and only seemed to be glad that we were safe and sound. Of course the truck was totaled, but we did get a “new” Ford truck out of the deal.

Just the other day, Dad accused that he would still have that International truck today, if not for my accident! Ha Ha!

Okay, siblings. I know you want to .. so go ahead and share your side of the story!

By the way, 

I'm having a GIVEAWAY for my BIRTHDAY. 

But you have to go read the Farmer's Place Blog to enter.
(I've been blogging every day in October about my journey with chronic pain.)

1 comment:

  1. I think I was at college when this happened, but I have my own yellow truck story. I had driven it to school. When I was leaving the parking lot I turned left into the main driveway. Another student was driving too fast and ran into the back panel. It didn't do much damage to the truck but his car had a nice smash in the front. He was not happy. The damage to the truck wasn't worth fixing. Mandy took care of it later, as we see here. ;)