Oh no, it's going into the other lane. I'm in the other lane. Take foot off gas. Steer into the skid. Keep your eyes where you want to go. My camera bag falling on me from the passenger seat. Don't let it spin, or you'll roll. Please God, don't let it roll. It's spinning around. I'm now going backwards, sliding into the opposite ditch. Please God, don't let it roll. Please, please. There's no approach to hit. Thank you. It's still sliding. Now it's stopped.
I'm alive.
I'm alive, and I'm not hurt.
I'm alive, I'm not hurt, and the vehicle seems undamaged, although it might need a wheel alignment.
I'm facing northwest in the opposite ditch from the eastbound direction I've been travelling. However, I'm alive, and the eight to 10 inches of snow in the gently sloping ditch seemed to act as a gentle break to my SUV, which had been travelling at a mere 55 km/h when it had a 'departure' from its Estevan-bound course.
I will be soooo glad when this winter is over.
I look to my OnStar button. Do I press it? This is the first time I've ever really needed it. But do I really want to spend the money on a tow truck? I just passed one five minutes before, pulling someone else out.
Better phone my wife. "Michelle, I'm in the ditch."
I had phoned her five minutes before, telling her I was leaving a speck on the map called Ralph. I was in Ralph, doing an interview, because the roads were so bad the previous afternoon, coming back from Regina, the SUV lost control twice on the half-inch ice south of Regina, but I was able to recover in time. I opted to stay at a friend's place in Weyburn, and not risk completing my journey at night on the iciest roads I had ever seen.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes."
"Is the truck alright?"
"Yes."
"Can you get out?"
"I'll call you back."
I never thought of that. This supposed all wheel drive just might be able to do it. There isn't nearly as much snow as I expected. I put it in gear, and off I went. I can't pull straight onto the highway, but I am able to drive the 300 yards to the next intersection. The first attempt falters, but putting it in low gear gets me out.
I've been struggling with bald tires all winter. They are close to replacement, but not quite there. I was hoping to make it through the winter, and then be able to coast through the summer before dropping $1,500 I don't have on a new set. If winter had been over several weeks ago, this strategy would have worked. Instead, I nearly rolled my truck. Some strategy.
I don't know why, but this past winter has had three of the my top 10 worst driving experiences. Coming back from Steinbach in January, I had 400 kilometres of black ice on a 550 kilometre trip and nearly rolled the truck twice. A few weeks later, freezing rain saw six cars and trucks in the ditch between Stoughton and Benson. The only reason I wasn't in the ditch was because I took my wife's 4x4 F-150 Supercrew, with good tires.
Hitting the ditch was simply a crowning achievement for a winter I want to forget.
What I don't understand is why they weren't salting the roads, especially near Regina. Highways 6 and 39 are high traffic routes. We have an ocean's worth of salt, literally, under Saskatchewan. Can't some of the potash tailings that cover whole quarter sections be used to salt roads?
On the sections of Highway 39 where they did eventually get to salting, the road was dry and perfectly safe. But that was only maybe 15 per cent of its length between Weyburn and Estevan. It's time to get those trucks out and pour it on. My kids could have ended up with a single parent.
I'm buying new tires this week, and studded winter tires in the fall. That's enough of this. My life is worth the price of tires.
- Brian Zinchuk is editor of Pipeline News. He can be reached at [email protected]
