On a Midnight Clear

     The holiday season was upon us as we ventured into the cold frozen countryside. We were just southeast of Lyman, Wyoming about to film some trophy Mule Deer that were wintering in a particular area. A friend of mine had shown me the site the previous year. I had taken some impressive pictures of massive Mule Deer bucks as they migrated down from the high country and wintered on the flat sagebrush infested prairies of southern Wyoming.
     I had decided to take my wife along with me on this trip. We were going to spend New Year's Eve in Evanston, Wyoming where they had a nice buffet set up and a comedy show in one of the local motels. The weather was cold and somewhat foggy so I figured if the deer viewing was difficult we could always enjoy the comedy show. We had been to this particular show in the past and loved it!
     It was the afternoon of December 31, 1994. We drove out to the viewing area where we anticipated a fun afternoon of driving around and seeing the wildlife as it presented itself for our pleasure. The plan was to film the deer herds and then just at sundown we would travel back to Evanston and check into a motel. As I later learned from the prophet Murphy, and his written law that if something can go wrong it will every time.
     The day went off as planned and the deer herds were in mass with many trophy bucks to be filmed. In fact, the afternoon slipped away very quickly. Before I knew it, I was still trying to get a film of some big bucks close to the road with my headlights. Patty suggested that we had better call it a day. She seemed to have better judgment than I did that day. I was in the rut, sorta speaking while seeing all those monster bucks with massive horns I had lost all sense of time. Finally, it dawned on me that there were two on this trip. If I wanted a nice New Years Eve motel rendezvous I better get heading for town.
     On the way through Evanston earlier in the day, my better half suggested I reserve a room just in case we were late getting back to town. Instead, this old trailblazing, future-seeing Swamy, drove right through Evanston without a second thought. My mind was on those big bucks and the film I would be able to sell if I captured the right moment. In the dark of the evening sky, I realized that I had better put the foot to the pedal and get us back to where we could finish our trip in the comforts of good food and a warm bed.
     We were south of I-80 about twenty miles on snow packed roads. By the time I reached the interstate we had lost another hour or more. I was hurrying along and trying to keep peace in the truck with the other half as the fog settled in and I came to a snail's pace. I could barely see the Chevrolet hood pin out in front of my truck. Very carefully I maneuvered around the winding roads until I came to a stop sign that took us under the I-80 overpass and towards Kemmer, Wyoming. As I came to this road a sign pointed to the left and up the on ramp for I-80 West to Evanston.
     This is where Murphy's law came into play. As I started up the on-ramp, the fog had lifted a little and I was feeling like I had it all wrapped up for the night. I remember putting pressure on the gas pedal. I had resolved myself to making up for lost time. The ramp on the south side of the freeway has a slight curve to it as it starts to connect to the interstate. As I was starting to gain momentum I felt the first feeling that not all was going to work out. As the big Chevrolet truck raced along the curve trying to gain freeway speed, the mother of all black ice slicks raised it's ugly head and sent us sailing out into utter darkness. Now when I say we sailed into the utter darkness that might be a bit of an understatement. I remember yelling to Patty to hold on because we were airborne like the Dukes of Hazard in General Lee. The problem was we were not helmeted up like stunt men and the frozen ground was not a soft landing zone. To put it in another phrase, 'We were flying through the air with the greatest of ease, in our Chev 4x4 without a trapeze.'
     I barely had time to reach over to try and hold Patty's arm down to cushion the impact when we hit the bottom of the barrow pit in a pile of plowed snow. The truck hit with such a force that our heads smacked the ceiling when we reached earth. Staring straight ahead into the fog and snow, I looked over at my wife and used some Army language I had picked up many moons before. We were alright for the most part and Patty was scared but not hurt. I had hit the steering wheel with my thighs bouncing up and had sore leg muscles but the fact that the truck was upright and the engine running made us feel safe.
     The truck had landed in the V portion of the barrow pit where all the snow had collected from the snow plows as they hurled the white ice down off the interstate. The deep snow had lessened our impact or I'm sure we would have broken the truck frame. It was so deep around the truck that I couldn't open the doors. All I remember saying to myself was don't let Patty know you're worried. It was -12 degrees and we couldn't be seen from the freeway. It was nearly thirty feet above us and we were down in a low drain. At least I was prepared for Murphy and his crappy laws, though. I had been working out in the deserts of Nevada in the gold mines and I had been driving on real bad roads to make sales calls etc. My truck was equipped with MRE's (military rations), a shovel, tire chains, water, candles and insulated coveralls. I even had flares and a blanket.
     The first thing I did after climbing out the window was get three flares out and hiked up the berm to the freeway and lit the flares. Then I cleared out the exhaust pipe so I could keep the engine running for Patty and went to work with the shovel. Thinking back as I write this article, I remember being in real good physical shape because I shoveled non-stop for three or more hours. As I would get one part of the truck out of the snow the other side would settle more and I would have to start all over again. Patty would look out at me and try to see if she could get any signal from the expressions on my face. I kept a constant will about me and never let on that I was still in a state of semi-shock. Thoughts were racing as I worked trying to get the truck unstuck. I couldn't figure out why no one was traveling the interstate and I surely didn't think that walking into town twenty miles in sub-zero temperatures was much of an option. Patty would never let me leave her in the truck and she didn't have the proper clothing to make a twenty-mile walk so I just kept shoveling in the dark.
     The truck had rested on about five feet of packed snow so it took me quite a while before I had it cleared away and the tire chains put on all four tires. Finally, I got the truck rocking back and forth until I could move it about ten feet in both directions. I wasn't sure whether I could climb the truck up the steep berm or not. If I could have gotten out of the barrow pit, I felt I had a chance. The snow had melted on the sides of the freeway and you could see frozen hard packed dirt. I literally beat my beautiful truck back and forth until it finally grabbed a chunk of earth and sprung us up along the berm. We were spinning and churning when at last the truck leaped out onto the freeway outside lane. I quickly removed the tire chains and thanked God for his help as we drove towards town.
     The whole ordeal had taken six or more hours. As we came in view of the lights of Evanston I could see flares on the interstate in both directions. We saw a highway patrol officer so we approached him. His eyes lit up like saucers. He walked up to my window and asked where in the hell we came from. The entire time he talked with us he inspected all the snow still holding to my truck. I told him our ordeal and he informed us that I-80 had been closed since five o'clock because of a storm traveling through from Ogden to Rock Springs. The storm had shut down the freeway through Utah and Wyoming. He told us we would have to stay in Evanston until the storm passed and the roads were opened. We told him about our plans and he said good luck with that.
     Now, this is where Murphy's law raises it's ugly head again. We went from motel to motel in the middle of the night only to find out that because of the storm and New Years that all rooms were taken. I was standing in the Antler Best Western Inn being told once again that there was no vacancy by a small onery bald headed man. Just as I was about to leave I heard a sweet voice from the back room of the office interject and say, "Harold you give them kids the keys to the suite." Reluctantly, the small man handed me the keys while the voice in the back said, "You charge them the standard room rate too." Well, the tables turned on old mister Murphy for the second time that night. As I opened the door to the only room in Evanston on New Year's eve 1994 I nearly did a double take. We were staying in the honeymoon suite decked out with a heart-shaped jetted tub that was carved in the floor. The king and his Queen had finally arrived.
     It was too late for the buffet and the comedy show was long past. We resolved ourselves to service station snacks and our beautiful accommodations. I have to say that tub nursed all the sore muscles on this old hardhead and then some. I really lucked out. The room seemed to make up for my mule-headed lack of brains earlier in the night when I tried to set the record for the longest ski jump ever attempted with a 4x4 truck.
     The next day was New Year's day. Patty and I were anxious to get home if the roads were cleared. The good patrons from Utah and Wyoming had worked all night to get the roads in fair shape for the trip home. The only problem was that Murphy wasn't through with me quite yet. As I started the frozen Chevy a loud whining sound came from under the hood. As I lifted the hood my thoughts were confirmed and a steady stream of red liquid was running out of my steering pump housing. The tire chains and the wheels working back and forth on the frozen earth had ruined the pump. I remember looking at the sky and mumbling something to the effect of why me Lord?
     Since it was New Year's day everyone was on holiday. I slammed the hood down just a little extra hard and broke the news to my wife as we sat in the cafe next to the motel and ate breakfast. The waitress was the same voice I had heard the night before giving us the suite. When she heard the news of my broken truck she went into rescue mode. She contacted her brother that had a mechanic's shop in town and he came over and looked at the truck. He said he couldn't get parts until Monday which was two more days away. He asked if I wanted to try something that he thought might work. He was going to try putting an older pump on my truck from one he had in his yard.
     Well to end this story the old pump worked. When I pulled out my money clip to pay him I thought he was going to take it all. My mind couldn't comprehend the words from his mouth when he said that'll be $86.00 bucks and I won't guarantee the work. Guaranteed or not we paid up, thanked many, and hit the road as fast as two weary travelers could go. We spent the rest of our holiday telling the kids about our adventure.
     Lessons learned from Murphy were big on this trip. The next time I get a hair brained idea about gallivanting all over the frozen tundra in the middle of the night, I will remember the look on my wife's face just after touchdown in the barrow pit and realize that our fun happy New Years Eve would be temporarily put on hold while we cleaned out our shorts and prepared for what might come next.