The Rock

Four years ago, after Tess had just turned five years old, we took a family ride up the mountain in Mantua.  Bryan had Miles on the motorcycle and I had Tess behind me on the four-wheeler.  We had taken lots of rides like this and it was a lot of fun.  We all enjoyed it a lot.  We were at the end of our ride--it was getting to be dusk--and were heading back to the truck.  Bryan always rode in front of me, and he turned off onto a new trail.  I was kind of tired and ready to be done but I followed him, thinking "urgh, I don't want to take this trail...I just want to head to the truck."  Well, we traveled along for a little ways and then I noticed a deep-looking rut on the right hand side of the road so I hugged the left to avoid it.  There was a rock on the left (that I didn't see) and I hit it with my front left tire.  It was a big rock, and it pulled the tire right up it.  (This is something that I wasn't really familiar with...I had never spent the hours and hours that Bryan did in the mountains in his Bronco going on "roads" that no vehicle should never go on...and so I didn't have the experience or knowledge that he did.)  I guess I'm just a dumb blonde, but I didn't realize that the rock could kind of grip my tire and pull it right up, throwing me way off balance.  Long story short, we ended up flipping the four-wheeler over.  Tess and I were trapped underneath it.  It was completely upside down on us, and thankfully it was not crushing us, but we were unable to get out from underneath it and I was definitely not strong enough to lift it off us using just my back.

I really don't want to get into all the details here, but suffice it to say that I was panicked, Tess was screaming with fear, and this whole experience was very traumatic for Bryan and me.  Bryan soon realized that we weren't behind him and he came back and pulled the four-wheeler off us.  Thankfully we were unhurt except for lots of scrapes and big bruises.  Bryan said then and there that we were done.  We were selling the four-wheeler and we were never riding again.  (It really shook him up, understandably.)  It took lots of convincing, but eventually I talked him into keeping the four-wheeler, that we still needed to ride as a family, and that I could be more careful.

Over the years the roles have reversed a little and I am the one who's become much more nervous.  Every time we ride I get really anxious and worried that I will hit a stupid rock again, and Bryan has to convince me to come along for a ride.  He keeps telling me that it was a fluke thing, a freak accident and it probably won't happen again.  But I have had all these conflicting feelings... on the one hand Bryan tells me that it only happened because it was a HUGE rock!  I should be able to avoid huge rocks easily.  On the other hand I feel like if the rock was so huge, why the heck did I not SEE it!?  I must just be an idiot.

Well, anyway, a few weeks ago Bryan went for a ride up the same mountain and he went down that trail.  He took a bunch of pictures for me.  These pictures almost make me sick to my stomach because I remember the trail vividly.  The worst part about the entire thing is that I had Tess with me.  I don't really care if I hurt myself (although I'm thankful I didn't), but if I had broken Tess's leg or something worse (heaven forbid) I could never forgive myself.  I didn't want to see the pics at first because I have just felt like such a dummy for not seeing this HUGE rock...

Do you see it?  On the left?  No?  Well, that's because it's so dang hidden under all the brush.

  Here's the view from the other side.

And here it is next to the four-wheeler to give you a sense of scale.  It's taller than the wheel by quite a bit.

(You can also see where there is paint on it, probably from other vehicles hitting it, or maybe from someone painting it to try to make it more visible??)

Yep, it definitely IS a huge rock.  But it IS really, really hard to see!  I feel a lot better now.  "Vindicated" is not really the right word, but I guess I just feel like, yeah, OK, it probably WAS just a fluke thing.  A freak accident.  It means I'm not a total idiot who was just driving recklessly with her baby girl on the back.  It helps me feel a bit more confident in our future rides with the kids.

To end on a happier note, here are a few more pics of Inspiration Point--not from that exact ride 4 years ago, but from another ride that summer before the accident.  Oh how thankful I am that we were protected that day.