Rest In Pieces Old Girl

It was a week ago today that I lost Ruby. We were traveling down Highway 87 near Wall in West Texas.

A beautiful blue-sky day, the outside temp was in the mid '80s and I was listening to Mark Levin's new book, Liberty and Tyranny, on CD. That's when I heard the bang.

I had never been in a serious accident before. Maybe a fender bender or two, but nothing like this. The rear tire on the driver's side of my little red pickup truck had blown out, tread separating from the tire and tearing out a huge gash in the fiberglass flareside.

Fish-tailing is no fun at 55 mph, but the slide to the side across two lanes of fast moving pavement was the real eye-opener. You don't realize just how fast 55 is until you are doing it sideways. I'm sure the noise around me was horrendous, but I heard nothing except for a small voice in my head saying, "we're going to roll." And roll we did.

Off the highway then down a slight drop, Ruby and I flew right into a field of soft, newly plowed dirt. That's when we flipped over. I felt the impacts . . . first on my side, then the roof, then the other side and finally back upright on four wheels, two of which no longer had viable tires.

What a rush . . . I sat there for a few seconds, then unbuckled my seat belt, opened the door and stepped out into the powdery dust settling around me. A local guy, tall and thin, and wearing a baseball cap was running across the field toward me with a cell phone in one hand and shouting, "are you alright?!"

As the "stars" cleared from my head I answered, "yeah, I'm good." And surprisingly I was.

A quick walk around the scene and I saw that Ruby was seriously hurt. Her windshield was smashed and the roof at both ends was deeply dented from the roll. The tops of both doors were embedded with dirt and slightly caved. Though the airbag didn't fire off, I would be later told that the front had taken such a hit that the hood couldn't be opened even with a crowbar.

Personal items were strewn from one side of the cab's interior to the other: loose change, luggage, laptop, my range bag, racquetball equipment, CDs and extra work boots, a baseball bat and two 100-piece boxes of ball point pens from Traders Village, paperwork, sunglasses, cell phone, my lucky St. Patrick's Houston Astro cap and more. It was a mess, but it would have to keep until tomorrow because the emergency responders had arrived.

First on the scene were a couple of deputies from the Tom Green Country Sheriff's Department; nice guys who couldn't believe that I had just walked away from the crash. Next was the Texas State Trooper who took control of the accident. The deputies tried to get me to play a practical joke on him . . . I opted not to.

A fire truck from the Wall Volunteer Fire Department rolled up with lights flashing. As the crew jumped from the truck in full gear, one of the deputies said light-heartedly, "Volunteer fire department . . . these guys love this stuff." They were a good group that quickly wrapped a support around my neck and had me strapped to a backboard awaiting the ambulance.

It wasn't long before the EMS from San Angelo arrived and I was off to Shannon Medical Center for three-hours of observation, x-rays, CAT scans and trying to pee into a bottle while laying on my back in a neck brace . . . I gave up the try.

The ER medical staff couldn't have been more friendly or helpful, even calling a cab for me once Dr. McGoon told me that I was good to go....

Though the whole event was a bit unnerving, the trip to Home Motors the next day was the most emotional experience of all. There I stood with two large trash bags in-hand looking at my girl . . . Ruby sat there among rows of other broken bodies, bruised and silent as the West Texas wind blew wildly around us. I wiped the grit from my eyes as they began to tear up. It was then that I knew, really knew, that Ruby would not be coming home with me.

I filled my bags with all the stuff that had accumulated there over the past six years, all the time remembering the fun times that Ruby and I had photographing the Bluebonnets in the Texas Hill Country and the white sand at Dauphin Island. I thought back to exploring the backroads of Texas and the north Georgia mountains in my little red pickup and what a great pair we were together. She was always there for me and all she ever expected was an oil change every 3,000 miles and a good grade of gasoline.

I know that God was my co-pilot on Highway 87 in Wall, Texas last week as he had been on all my trips with Ruby over the past six years. I survived a speedy roll-over with God at my side and Ruby wrapped around me. Thank you God. And, thank you Ruby. Rest in Pieces old girl. You were the best.