Brush With Death 2

Brush with death-two

The horses were two big draft animals I was loaning to a children’s petting park for the summer.  The trailer was rickety and meant for small Mustangs.  But, the old man was doing his friends a favor and loaded the bulky animals into his dilapidated trailer attached to an equally dilapidated truck. My sister and I squeezed into the front seat and we started off on the 30 minute drive from Pescadero to Scott’s Valley on the California Coast.

The cowboy was preoccupied and distracted by having two young ladies share this trip. He laughed and joked and made many flirtatious remarks, thoroughly enjoying the bright Spring day. He was sure he was making a good impression.  He was looking forward to hauling these horses back at the end of the summer.

This drive is one of the most scenic on the Coast.  Fields of Brussels Sprouts and corn grow alongside the cliffs that border the Pacific Ocean to the right and on the left are rows of cabbages and root crops that thrive in the often foggy zone along with grape and berry vines. The undulating road dips down to cross small streams before climbing another hill from where passing whales might be seen. Sand beaches are few along this stretch replaced by steep drop-offs on either side of the road.

Although he had traveled this road many times the Cowboy had not done so with such a weight pushing his truck up and down the rolling hills. At the top of the longest grade just outside of Davenport, he realized he was not paying enough attention to the road, or the weight, or the speed.  He shouted a warning.  He tried to slow the truck by driving in the soft shoulder on the right. But the trailer swung out to the left as they peaked and started down the long grade.  Twice more he tried to slow the trailer by contacting the side of the cliff.  Now, oncoming cars recognized the danger and were pulling off the roadway to avoid a collision with the hurtling truck and heavy trailer.

More out of control than ever before, the trailer was now dragging the small truck back and forth, side to side, using both lanes and barely staying on the roadway at all! Then, the truck, with the ocean forty feet below to the right, and a thirty foot embankment on the left, spun out dragging the trailer around it. Inside, the horses hit the ends of their tethers snapping them loose.  The centrifugal force pulled the horses out the back of the trailer as it became the leader in the spin. Because the horses were dumped out, the trailer was no longer the heaviest of the vehicles and as it started over the cliff one wheel dropped into space while the other stopped in the berm.

Inside the cab, inside the spin, and jolted to a stop, we were completely stunned. My last words to Denise had been, “Relax”, because I knew relaxed people often survived driving off cliffs whereas braced people often did not. But, we had not gone over as expected.  The now empty trailer had not had the weight to pull the truck as it had been doing before with the horses inside.  The horses! How were they?

Scrambling out of the truck we found them in the road struggling. Old Lady had severe hock damage but got up and could walk.  Glory was banged up but reloaded well.. Months later Old Lady was put down, unable to overcome her injuries, and Glory lost a foal due to the accident. All three of the people involved were happy to be alive.