And it's a half past four and I'm shiftin' gear!

And so the rest of the lyrics of Golden Earing's, Radar Love, go as they do. I true classic. I love the song, and hate it in the same breath.

It was Sunday night, we were headed south on Wyoming SR 191, south out of Pinedale for Rock Springs. The road was long and straight for the most part. We'd driven it hundreds of times, my best friend, Stu, and I. (maybe even thousands of times).

We'd always gas up before we left town, it was a hundred mile run and the trucks we were driving weren't the most fuel efficient. It was after dark on a November evening when we left Pinedale for RKS. Quick "hunnert' mile run, we'd done it a million times.

That night, I'd just passed my full EMT cert a couple weeks before, life was good. I had a broken (casted) foot (dumb me) and several stitches in my face from a tree falling on me,....but it was just another day (in my life anyway). Two lane highway, with heavy oilfield traffic in both directions, average speed was 80 mph. Just an ordinary night, coming back home. Bought some jerky at that local store for the ride and set out. Stu was tired so I drove.

We were flying, way faster than the speed limit, passing the convoys of Halliburton trucks, heading back to town. Suddenly I saw some headlights in the rearview of Stu's truck. It was a car and it was coming up fast...way faster than we were going. Soon enough a black Trans-Am came around us at well over 100mph (we were going 85-90). It was Kenny. Everybody knew everyone else back then. He had the coolest Trans-Am in town.

I watched the tail lights disappear in the distance in front of us. We were close to town now, maybe 20 miles out. Just coming up to the top of what they called "14 Mile Hill", which was a long downhill for 14 miles into Rock Springs, Wyoming. It wasn't steep, or particularly dangerous, just a long hill.

Kenny knew Stu's truck, and everybody knew Kenny's Trans-Am, it was gorgeous! He honked when he roared by, open pipes and all. Kenny looked like he really accelerated after he passed us, we could see the back of the Trans-Am squat down and wriggle away in a cloud of dust...even going as fast as we were. Probably had some hot chick with him...as usual. He was the quintessential ladies man!

When I came over the top of the hill I fully expected to see tail lights down below, but I didn't. Seconds later I passed some thick black "S" shaped skid marks and went through a big cloud of dust. Thinking nothing of it at first I drove on. But then I thought something was wrong so I slowed down and woke up Stu. "Stu, I think Kenny might have wrecked!!"

I braked, pulled off on the shoulder and rocketed off back up the hill.

(End Part 1)

a reply to: Flyingclaydisk

Looking forward to part 2 ...

I told ya you could write. Learnt your letters well you did.

Nice story. Ready for part two. Well done as a writer, you left us a hangin by a thread.

P

(begin Part II)

By this time Stu was wide awake. We were hauling ass back up the hill to where I saw the skid marks, truck wide open.

When we got to where the skid marks were, we could see lights off in the desert. A Trans-Am, a black Trans-Am.

When I got to the car, about 150 yards off the road in the high desert, I came upon a Trans-Am that was just smashed to pieces. There wasn't a single part of that car intact. But the lights were still on. The roof was smashed flat. The car was completely destroyed. This was not how I planned to start my Emergency Medical Tech experience, not at all.

Kenny was badly injured and hanging out of the car under the door, the car was upside down. There were no cell phones then, but we had radio-telephones in our trucks. I yelled to Stu to call the local ambulance service in town and tell them to dispatch the helicopter. (The helicopter belonged to a AMF Tuboscope, but they ran helo medevac for RKS).

"Don't let me die...Bob....just don't let me die" Dammit, those words will haunt me for the rest of my life! "Don't let me die'"

I told him he wasn't going to die, he'd be okay, but I knew it wasn't true. Told him to just hang on. (still makes me tear up, nearly 35 years later). The helo got there, and the Wyoming Highway Patrol got there, but the fire trucks with the air-bags and heavy rescue gear were still struggling up 14 mile hill. Kenny didn't make it that November night. I was crushed.

After the funeral, I saw the flatbed wrecker bring the car back into town. It looked like "jelly", the whole car was just broken, covered in dirt, must have gone end-over-end several times before rolling 4-5 times.

Kenny Garbrick, he was just 19, same age as me. He was my friend.

Note...sorry Part II was such a downer.

It's a true story. A very sad one, but true none the less.

You really are a good writer Flyingclaydisk. It comes from your heart and it shows.

I'm really sorry you had to say goodbye to your friend that way, but I'm sure he was grateful in his own way to have his friend there as well. Better than dying alone .

a reply to: Sheye

I guess we all did stupid things when we were young and invincible. Most of us made it past that stage but, sadly, some don't. Sometimes, death is the unexpected result of our actions.

Kenny is still alive in your heart and today, you have honored his memory. You are still his good friend.

I wish I had friends like you.

P

Nvmd...too depressing.

a reply to: Flyingclaydisk

That must have brought that fateful day rushing back.

A tragic story well told.

a reply to: Flyingclaydisk
That sounds very familiar.

Sorry about your friend. That must have been horrible.