A Road Trip to Remember

“Spud red, spud yellow, spud …,” We were not on the road for five minutes, not out of the city limits of Huntsville, Alabama, and the spud road game had already started. It was in the late eighties; Lisa, my eldest, was eight years old, and her younger brother Phillip was two. The kids, Pam, my first wife, and I were in a pale blue 80’s model Ford Taurus. We were headed to Chatsworth, Georgia.

Pam’s family lived in rural Georgia, and their family's favorite road game was “Spud.” A VW Bug was considered a spud, and the first person to spot one would call it a “Spud” and the color of the car. It was supposed to be a road game, but their family played it every time they got in a car. While Pam and I were dating, I got so tired of hearing “Spud!” To me, it was incorrect to call it a road game. Instead, it should have been a car game.

But looking back on it, since sunshine had to be pumped back to where they lived, anytime they had to go anywhere, it was a road trip. It was more than a notion to go do anything. A quick run to the store was a thirty-minute run one way, and if they needed to pay a bill, now you were gone half of the day. So, Spud was a road game.

After we made it to Pam’s mother’s home in the northern part of Georgia, I decided to take the kids down to Atlanta, about two hours away, to visit my cousin Jeannette. After a couple of hours at Jeannette’s, it started to rain, so we headed back to Chatsworth. The longer we were on the road, the faster and harder the rain came down. At times it was hard seeing the highway. Of course, in Atlanta, everyone drove as if it was 90 degrees and clear.

Have you ever made a decision about something, and later asked yourself, “What in the hell was I thinking?” I made such a decision; I took an exit off of the interstate in order to use the side roads. My thinking, at the time, was that I would be away from the high-speed traffic and would be able to drive slower with the kids in the car.

The words to Ray Charles’ version of the song, “A Rainy Night in Georgia, It seems like it's raining all over the world.” It best describes how we felt once we left the interstate. Yes, the back roads had less traffic, but they were also darker because of the trees, and the narrow roads had more standing water, making it more difficult to maneuver. By the time it was obvious that the detour was a mistake, we had traveled too far to turn back. The best choice was to continue to move forward.

Lisa, in the front passenger seat, with her seat belt on, and Phillip, in his car seat, mounted in the center of the back seat, were both quiet, and I had cut the radio off to improve my concentration. Although I was driving at a slower speed, being in my thirties, I probably had an exaggerated opinion of my abilities.

I thought the road had my full attention, so I am not sure how it happened. For some reason, the front right tire ran off of the pavement, and upon correcting it, I felt the car starting to hydroplane into a 90-degree left-hand slide. At the same time, I could feel the right rear tire trying to catch on the outside edge.

It was at that very moment a nightmare I had years ago flashed into my mind. For years I had the same reoccurring nightmare at least once a month. The nightmare made no sense, it was me and two little doll-like figures in a blue car. The car was spinning in a barrel-roll over and over. The spinning never stopped until I woke up. It must have been nearly ten years since I had the last nightmare.

If we continued in the current slide and the back tire edge caught, we would more than likely start a barrel-roll flip down the road. To straighten the car out meant we would drive off of

the road into the darkness of water of unknown depth and no telling how far down from the road. One would have thought the nightmare flashback, the driving calculations, and the decisions took moments or at least a few seconds, but no, all were done within a fraction of a second. Once the decision was made, I yelled, “Hold on!”

With a glance in the rearview mirror, I saw Phillip with both hands holding firm on his car seat, his arms locked, and a determined look on his face. I did not have time to look at Lisa. However, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pop the shoulder belt, locking it in place. I had a strange thought, “How did she know how to do that?” Upon seeing her do that, my internal prayer was, “Lord, please don’t let me kill my daughter this night.”

Sabrina, a cousin the same age as Lisa, was killed in a car accident on a Georgia side road within the last couple of years. Lisa and Sabrina were very close, and because of where Lisa was sitting, she was in more danger of being killed than Phillip.

With a quick turn of the steering wheel, we left the sound of the tires sliding on the wet pavement and the single tire scraping gravel, trying to catch. For a very brief surreal moment, the only sound we heard was the raindrops on the top of the car and the tires rotating freely. While we were in mid-air, I did apply the brakes because once we hit down, we needed to stop as quickly as possible. Applying the breaks while we were hydroplaning would have taken all control from me.

The silence was broken as the car started to impact tree limbs. The sound of tree limbs slamming against the front of the car, with limbs popping and cracking, was replaced by the crushing of underbrush. The sound of breaking limbs and the crushing of underbrush was both frightening and reassuring at the same time. Frightening because as things were breaking, we could not tell how much of the breakage was the car; thus not sure of our safety. But it was reassuring because, as long as we were making an impact, we were being stopped and not plunging headlong into the water of unknown depth.

Finally, all was still and quiet, except for the raindrops hitting the car, and as best as I could tell, we were stationary. After a moment of sitting and listening, waiting for the next thing to happen, I checked with the kids, and they were ok. I had no idea where we were or how far down from the road we were. I had a new spotlight. I plugged it into the cigarette lighter and started moving the beam back and forth overhead, like a Bat-signal.

In a short amount of time, we saw lights above and people yelling for us. As the lights started to beam down on us, it was at that point that I saw we were in a twenty-foot-plus ravine, and the car was positioned on some thick branches, keeping it from falling further into cascading water.

Several people created a chain and helped pull the kids and me out of the car. One older gentleman offered to take us somewhere to get the kids out of the rain. Lisa surprised me yet again. Although she did not know her grandmother's address, she was able to give directions to the man, and he got us there.

I called the sheriff’s department, explained about the accident, and told them where I was. The night almost got even more interesting. The sheriff's department was going to charge me with leaving the scene of an accident. I don’t remember the details, but I think everyone in the house was pleading my case. No charges were filed.

 The next day I was taken to where the car had been towed. It was ugly but drivable. Cutting the visit short, we drove back to Huntsville. On the way back home, I heard my daughter yell the two most beautiful words in the world, “Spud   Blue!”