Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

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Friday, September 4, 2015

Prairie Flying

Add a dashboard, seat, steering wheel, and dust and this is our  steed!
Marty had a dune buggy.
Actually, it had once been a car. But it had been stripped down to the basics. Wheels. Frame. Seats. Motor. And a steering wheel.
Now it was a dune buggy.
That baby could go.
Just not on any conventional roads.
Marty would take us flying across the prairie at speeds beyond . . . what we should have been travelling.
But we were safe.
Marty had firm hands on the wheel.
As long as there was ground beneath us, all was well.
And that's where my story gets interesting . . .
It was a beautiful ssummer day.
The sun was high and hot. The air shimmered. The crickets and bugs were sending up a steady chorus. There was a haze of dust hanging in the still, dry air.
Perfect 'low flying' weather.
Marty had piled Michelle and I into his buggy for a ride.
Okay, I have to admit that the use of the word 'into' is a bit of a misnomer.
'Onto' would probably be more accurate.
I was in the middle. Marty on my left, steering wheel firmly in hand. Michelle on my right, casually slumped back in the seat, one foot propped up on the dashboard.
Oh, right. We also had a dashboard.
Back to my story . . .
We were flying across the prairie just to the west and north of Marty's family farm, talking and laughing and generally enjoying the wind in our faces.
The field stretched out smooth and green in front of us.
Marty stepped on the gas and we all felt the exhilaration of speed.
Then, quite suddenly, a . . . ditch . . . opened up in front of us.
Oh, not just a little ditch.
An irrigation ditch. 30 feet across and a good 20 feet deep.
More of a canal than a ditch, really.
Huh. Where did that come from? And, more importantly, how were we going to avoid it when it carved its way straight across the field before us from fence to fence.
And when we were travelling at upwards of 45 miles per hour.
You're right.
We couldn't.
We didn't.
We launched off the west bank in a graceful arc.
Now the Dukes of Hazzard would have made it.
Evel Kinevel would have made it.
Even Barney Oldfield would have made it.
But three farm kids in a souped-up, stripped-down 'dune buggy'?
Not a chance.
We hit the opposite bank just below the lip still doing 45 miles per hour.
It's funny just how many thoughts can race through your head in the split seconds between launch and land. I remember thinking that Marty really was taking us flying.
Cool.
Then . . . crunch.
The buggy stopped instantly, of course, and slid down to the bottom of the canal.
We sat there, stunned for a moment.
And then the moaning started.
I was fine. I just thought I should point that out.
Something to note - when getting involved in an accident in a dune buggy, the middle position is the safest.
Moving on . . .
Marty and Michelle . . . weren't.
Fine, I mean.
Marty had broken his beloved steering wheel with his chin, splitting it open to the bone.
His chin, I mean.
Michelle was even worse off.
The foot that had been so casually propped up on the dashboard had been driven back by the force of our crash and dislocated her hip.
She was in . . . considerable . . . pain.
Marty put a hand over his chin and ran to the farmhouse a quarter of a mile away for help.
It was up to me to pull Michelle up out of the ditch.
Okay, it probably would have been easier . . . and wiser . . . to call an ambulance and wait for professional help, but we were kids of the country, raised to be self-sufficient and self-reliant.
We acted first.
And thought after.
Slowly and painstakingly, I turned Michelle onto her uninjured side. Then I pulled her up the steep bank. One step at a time.
Step, step. Pull.
Step, step. Pull.
She must have suffered agony throughout the entire ordeal, but she said little.
As we were nearing the top, Marty pulled up in his family's car.
Between the two of us, he and I managed to pull Michelle into the back seat. Then, Marty drove us to the hospital.
Funny that it never occurred to any of us to feel alarm when we again saw Marty with a steering wheel in his hands.
Go figure.
He got us there safely.
This time, professionals maneuvered Michelle out of the car and onto a stretcher.
By this point, I'm quite sure she appreciated their expertise.
And their drugs.
Her hip was restored, though she had to suffer through traction and treatments for months afterwards.
Marty was sewn back together and sports a sexy scar on his chin to this day.
I emerged unscathed.
A few days later, I was flying across the prairie with Dennis in his dune buggy.
Some people never learn.

14 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Had to get it when you could get it, Dr. Jim. Those horses din't go nearly fast enough! :)

      Delete
  2. All of you were lucky that day, Diane. And all of you were, indeed, self-sufficient. Imagine teenagers of today ...? Although, to be sure, 911 and cell phones and GPS tracking make it much easier to summon help, and probably a good idea.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yeah, Jenny. I'm sure those inventions were pretty much made with the teenager in mind! :)

      Delete
  3. I honestly do not know how you are alive! I had pretty much the same childhood minus the farm, horses, tractors haha! Okay I had four brothers so I was always having a near-death experience! I made a mistake on my post the other day. My PayPal is rm29303@gmail.com. I also wanted to tell you that I just finished my first full edit. Now I am letting it sit for awhile (actually I am letting my daughter read it) and then I am going to edit it one more time! I've been so giddy I just can't help it. I started it...and I finished it that's a big deal to me lol! thanks for always making me believe that it was possilbe!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yeah, I agree. Four brothers = near death. I don't know how you survived!
      I will go to that address . . .
      I'm so excited to get to read it. Finishing a book is like giving birth! Scary...and AWESOME!

      Delete
  4. Yowza!!! And I thought I had an exciting past! This is crazy but I'm sooo glad you were not injured, It could have been so much worse!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You're totally right, Marcia! It could have been so much worse as Thelma and Louise taught us! It gave me a new respect for those shows that feature cars flying across incredible distances. Been there. Done that.

      Delete
  5. It really is amazing how many of us survived isn't it? And mostly with only a few scars...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I always tell my kids that scars are stories written in your skin! :)

      Delete
  6. I was feeling rather sorry for Marty and Michelle, then read further to Dennis and another buggy.
    You really liked to live dangerously didn't you?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You're so right. What is the common denominator here?!

      Delete
  7. I just read a Facebook post that propping your foot on the car dash can cause significant injury when the airbag deploys. Looks like it wasn't a good idea when there were no airbags. I can't imagine that you had seatbelts - but how on earth were you all not ejected?
    Scary stuff Diane .... !!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Your right. Airbags. Seatbelts. This model definitely didn't come equipped with those! I don't know how we stayed aboard. Another miracle...

      Delete

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