The
night was clear and very cold. After leaving Dallas in rush hour there
had been no traffic on US 69 through Oklahoma, and it was very quiet in
Pryor and in Muskogee. In my trailer was more than 45,000 lbs of boxed
Coca-Cola syrup. It was three days until Christmas.
At
midnight, miles from the Kansas border, I turned into the dirt truck
parking lot at the Buffalo Run Casino to take my 30 minute DOT break. I
heated water to make coffee and lay in the sleeper reading. I had 180
miles left to Kansas City and a 4 am appointment at Vistar.
It
is my custom to begin driving after exactly a thirty minute break --
the minimum mandated by the DOT to unlock the remaining three hours of
drive time on the daily 11 hour clock -- but on this night, knowing
traffic would be light into the city because of the holiday, I chose to
make a proper coffee from grounds, requiring water heated longer and to
the highest temperature.
I
remember finishing the coffee and noting on the Qualcomm my break had
lasted 42 minutes. I was not pressed for time, and would likely have to
wait to be unloaded when I arrived at the customer, but a truck driver
lives by his clock and as a matter of principle these twelve minutes in
excess bothered me.
I
began driving and crossed into Kansas. US 69 merges with US Route 400
at the town of Baxter Springs and the posted speed increases to 65mph as
the road leaves town, a northbound and southbound lane undivided by a
median. The road continues to a roundabout with Route 66, a very
technical obstacle to pass cleanly with a semi-truck, but one I each
time looked forward to as a test of my professionalism.
A mile before the roundabout a southbound car edged over the line.
At
65mph you do not have much time but I gave the driver the tiniest
moment to right himself in his lane, then yanking my horn I started to
the shoulder. But he kept coming into my lane and now with both hands on
the wheel, headlights coming at me, I jerked the tractor onto the
shoulder, as close as I could get to the drop off into the ditch and
bushes and the pond, and he went by me. Then an explosion like a bomb
had gone off, but I felt nothing. I slowed onto the shoulder but in my
mirror I saw nothing. Then bounding down the middle of the round went
one of my trailer tires.
I
quickly put on my coat, took my flashlight, my knife and a blanket and
jumped out of the truck. The driver-side outer tandem tires on the
trailer were gone, the rims bent and disfigured. A quarter mile back in
the ditch on my side of the road was a car with its lights on and I ran
towards it. The roadside was littered with pieces of metal and plastic
and glass.
A
car stopped on the shoulder ahead of me. A young couple was inside. I
told them to call 911, I gave the location, and told them to say a car
has collided with a semi.
I
hurried down the embankment through the grass, shining my light on the
car. The hood on the driver's side was crushed, the front tire was gone,
and the driver's side door panel was torn away. I prepared for
something awful inside.
Someone
was in the back seat. I shined the light in on him. A young man was
packing things into a duffel bag and mumbling. I asked him if he was
okay. He said he was okay and continued packing. I told him I was the
driver of the truck he had hit and I asked him to step out of the car.
He stepped out and faced me. I looked him up and down, shining my light
on him. I asked if he was injured, if he was in any pain. He said he was
fine. I could hardly believe it.
On
the knee of his right leg was a spot of blood. He had recently had a
skin graft, he said. The skin was tender and prone to bleeding. It was
nothing. He really was fine. I could hardly believe it.
A
patrol car arrived and parked on the road. The state trooper came down
the embankment with his light on us. The young deputy was called Noble
Deakins. He asked each of us if we were injured. I gave the deputy my
CDL and insurance card and told him what had happened. He sent me back
to my truck to call my dispatcher and roadside service.
After
I had made my phone calls I walked back to see the deputy. A wrecker
was down in the grass preparing to winch the totaled car up onto a
flatbed. The young man was gone. A friend from Missouri had come for
him, the deputy told me. He claimed to have insurance, but could produce
no insurance card and had been cited. Deputy Noble Deakins also said
the young man said it was I who had gone into his lane and nearly killed
him. I smiled. The roadside evidence does not support his story, I said. The
state of Kansas does not assign guilt in accidents and the two stories
would be presented in the report, the deputy explained, the insurance companies will then debate who was at fault.
I said goodbye to the deputy but he stopped me.
"You did a good thing here tonight," said Deputy Noble Deakins.
"I know, sir. But I was lucky too."
He held out his hand and I shook it. Then I walked back towards my truck.
(Part II to come)
