I made it back - Barely, White knuckle suicide run from NorCal Options

[Gint]

Son of a...

This trip back was a constant battle. It may have taken first place in the "white knuckle ride form hell" category. I don't think words can even describe it. Terror springs to mind.

I need to take a nap. I'll tell you the story later.

Watch this space...



02/06/2004 - Story posted below

This post has been edited by Gint: Feb 6 2004, 05:25 PM

[Gint]

Sorry for the story being late gang. I left my job, house, wife, three kids and
six cars for essentially six days. They demanded all of my attention upon my
return. The new boss of three months has decided to change everything.
That didn't help.

It's a long one...

OK, after leaving the Tied House dinner at 7:30 PST, I drove through the rain
to Pleasant Hill and picked up Brant's new 914 roller (75 2.0, sans motor).
Nice car, well worth the $1500 clams. I left Pleasant Hill at 9:30 Monday
night, and headed out into the rain for the east side of Sacramento to spend
the night and get a fresh start on Tuesday morning and avoid rush hour traffic.
I stayed at a nice hotel in Orangevale (I think) after a nice Jack in the Box
dinner. In the morning, more rain on the way up into the hills towards Truckee.
They forced me to buy chains for the van and the trailer just past the Baxter
exit. I turned around and visited with the "Chain Monkeys" trying to buy used
chains with all of $81 cash in my wallet. The 3 or 4 chain monkeys on the
Westbound side of 80 only had a set of your standard chains for the van for
$60. I drove down to the Baxter exit and stopped at the chain store where I met
a VERY strange California mountain dweller. Colorful character to say the
least, he cussed and swore more than I do. Whack job (yes, he could be a teener
owner) takes me back across the highway and down a side road to sell me a used
set of radial chains for the trailer at $20. Not bad at all, relatively speaking.
These are the only chains I've ever used before, so I was familiar with them and
their use.

Heading east again now, I'm waved through with a smile at the chain inspection
booth. After 5 miles or so, I'm wondering why I need chains at all. I've
lived in Colorado most of my life, am an avid skier, and generally no stranger
to mountain passes, snowstorms and icy roads. I travel worse than this to get
out of my neighborhood during some local storms. It's also at this point that
I notice the trailer lights not working again. The Ford seven lug to standard
flat 4 trailer connector has come lose on a couple of occasions on this trip.
The chains aren't helping the situation at all. So about 7 miles (give or
take) after acquiring chains, I stop at the Immigrant Gap exit to check it out
and hit the can. A roll of duct tape fixes the connector problem (never
travel without duct tape). While in the store, the guy tells me they just
lifted the chain restriction (duh!). I decided to leave them on until I reach
the summit, just to be safe.

A few miles further on I hear thwack, thwack, thwack. No room to pull
over due to snow plow leftovers, I'm half in the right lane and stop to check
out the noise. One of the cross chains on the right rear had broken. Brand
new chains, haven't gone over 10 miles, and never exceeded 35 MPH. Great. I
don't see any sheet metal damage to the rental van, so I move on to a safer
spot at 10 MPH. Upon reaching a truck chain pullover, I realize that I don't
know how to get the standard chains off of the van. There doesn't seem to be
the same type of connector on the inside as there is on the outside. I explain
my plight and request assistance from a reluctant trucker. Together we find
the inside connector and I get the chain removed from the right wheel. Thanks
bud! I yell back at him to return his dropped cell phone. By now, my ass is
good and wet, I'm muddy and cold, but the remaining chains come off and get
tossed into the back of the van. I drive on to Reno, where it's sunny and
clear. It took 3 hours to traverse 40 miles. Nice.

So I'm tooling along for the remaining daylight hours through Nevada at the
speed limit (plus a few MPH). Life is good, but I can't help but wonder what
Utah is going to have in store for me. I didn't have to get that far for my
winter road trip paranoia to be realized. Just west of Elko NV, it's snowing
and getting dark anyway. In some places, and sometimes miles at a stretch, the
visibility absolutely sucks! The next 80-100 miles to the Utah state line
are pretty hairy. I drive (white knuckled) in the dark, on snow
packed roads, through small mountain passes, and generally become thoroughly
stressed, but alive and safe upon arriving at Wendover Utah. Here it's snowing
lightly, but the roads are mostly dry, and once again I'm able to drive the
speed limit. Salt Lake is rainy, but decent driving conditions exist until I
climb up over the pass east of S.L. City. Now it's back to winter conditions
just like that which existed in eastern Nevada.

Eventually I arrive at Evanston Wyoming. Fill up the gas tank and enjoy a
convenience store chili-cheese dog and back on the road. About 20 miles in, I
get a call from Brad to check on me. I tell him about Nevada scaring the shit
out of me. I didn't even tell him about the California chain story, because it
paled in comparison. Not too long after I hang up and telling him that I'm OK
and all appears to be well... the trailer jack knifes! The front of the truck
and the rear of the trailer are in the left lane; the hitch is in the right
lane; the entire rig is sliding sideways down the highway. I've never had this
kind of fun before! Instinctively, I let off of the gas and steer into the skid
and let the trailer wag me back and forth a few times, less and less each wag,
and manage to avoid the side of the highway! Upon trying to move forward again,
the rear axle of the van loses grip and the rig jack knifes again. This time at
45 MPH or so instead of 65. It seems as if the first episode may have trip the
trailer brake via the safety cable ties to the hitch, so I pull over to verify
that the trailer wheels are in fact turning. I'm literally weak in the knees
when my legs hit solid ground. Upon returning to the road, I realize that the
loss of traction at the rear wheels are what's causing the back end of the van
to slide sideways. Must be a limited slip or locker in this van. I proceed
slowly to the next truck parking area and gather my wits. A voice mail to Brad
tells him to forget what I said about Nevada scaring me. That was mere child's
play relatively speaking.

(IMG:http://914world.com/members/ginter/MVC-612F.JPG)

At this point I can't use the cruise control any more because it downshifts to
harshly and causes the ass-end of the van to slide. I don't need to repeat that
experience. 20 miles later, the trailer lights are out again. I stop in at
"Cruel Jacks" Cafe and enjoy a cup of coffee while I repair the broken
ground wire on my trailer harness adapter. The roads are dry here, but that
didn't last long. The remainder of the drive through Wyoming is done sans
cruise control, at speeds of 45-65 depending on conditions, which were mostly
bad. Far worse than I had seen in Nevada. I stopped at a truck stop near
Rawlins and try to sleep for an hour and a half. I was only moderately
successful. From here to Laramie was down right hairy, with absolutely terrible
visibility and road conditions. Fortunately, I fully understand this rig and
how to handle it in these conditions. I stopped in Laramie (I'm now 2.5
hours from home) and have a nice T-bone steak and eggs breakfast, waiting for
daylight again and listening to truckers "bench race". And I thought teener
drivers were braggarts...

(IMG:http://www.914world.com/members/ginter/MVC-613F.jpg)

45 miles to I25! I've never been so happy to see the "Welcome to Colorful
Colorado" sign. But the same conditions I've travailed all night still exist,
and once I reach Ft. Collins, the traffic starts to get heavy. I'm thinking
that I've come too far, through too much crap to end up on the side of the road
now. I'll do whatever it takes to arrive home safely. Even if it means driving
20 miles an hour to do it. Cars are flying by me in the left lane. I see a
Ford Ranger 4WD pickup traveling north sail into the highway median. The bottom
of the 30 feet or so wide grassy strip is approximately 6 feet below the road
surface. He starts sliding sideways, and when his front wheels hit the bottom
of the dip, he swings around and hits the upside of the median with front and
rear wheels and stops - abruptly. I'm in the right lane traveling south, and I
began applying the brakes very gently as soon as I saw the Ranger flying through
the grass. The lady in the Nissan Exterra in the left lane just passes the
front corner of the van before panicking upon seeing the Ranger. She jerks the
wheel over to the right and nails the brake. Needless to say, she's fish
tailing wildly trying to recover and ends up doing a 180 and finally coming to
an abrupt stop herself in the grassy median, backwards. She's luck she didn't
end up on her top. And I'm lucky I started carefully slowing when I first saw
the events unfold, or she would have pasted the front of the van and caused me
to jack knife and probably end up in the ditch on the side of the highway.

(IMG:http://www.914world.com/members/ginter/colorado-close.jpg)

24.5 hours after leaving California Tuesday morning, I arrived safe and sound at
home with a newfound respect for winter driving like never before.