Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: MOUNTAIN (07/02/20)
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TITLE: The MG and the Mountain | Previous Challenge Entry
By Corinne Smelker
07/08/20 -
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“Yep.” He buffed the car with his sleeve and looked lovingly at it. He had spent hours in between classes rebuilding the engine, putting in a new gearbox and restoring the paint to a shiny cherry red.
We were embarking on our third week of teacher training, something we did annually for six weeks. We had been assigned to a school in the remote northern part of our state, and Jon loved the mountainous drive that took us up several thousand feet, before dropping abruptly into the town we temporarily called home.
We started the three and a half hour journey talking about the upcoming week and compared lesson plans as we tooled along the main highway, before taking the long winding road up the pass, named oddly enough, Hilltop Pass. The name was a misnomer as this was no hilltop, but a steep pass peppered with sharp corners, including three bends in excess of 120 degrees. The nine-mile pass finished off with a 1,000 foot drop that abruptly emptied drivers out into the main street of the town. Traffic cops loved sitting at the foot of the drop and catching unaware drivers as they hurtled down.
We reached the pinnacle and once again I was drawn into the magnificent beauty of the escarpments. This was lumber country, and almost all of the 18-wheelers that travelled this portion of the road carried raw trees to the mills. The sun sparkled on the treetops and the road lay below us, winding its way down to the town nestled in the mountain’s bosom.
As I took in the glorious sight I continued talking. “I thought I’d present a puzzle for the kids. What do you think?”
Silence met my question, so I peered over at Jon. “Hey. Did you hear me?”
Silence. Then I noticed the tension on his face, and both hands gripping the steering wheel whereas minutes earlier he’d been steering with one hand.
“Jon!” Panic flooded my voice. I had never seen him like this. “What’s wrong?”
“Brakes.”
“They’re not working?”
He gave a terse nod.
“Handbrake?” I moved my hand towards the handbrake. “It’s not connected!” he almost yelled. “I didn’t have time to connect it.”
I looked out the windscreen to the flashing trees, and the black of the tarmac. We were going fast, too fast.
“Gear down!” I urged Jon.
“I have!”
I looked at the speedometer and immediately wished I hadn’t. The MG was a true sports car, capable of speeds of up to 100-miles per hour and the needle was hovering around the 80-mile per hour mark. On a road where the speed limit was 35!
Jon hugged the car as close to the inside cliff as possible. If he swung out too far we’d go over the outer cliff – like ‘Thelma and Louise’. But he needed to use the whole road in order to keep control. As he swung out to the left a huge truck rounded the blind corner and blew its horn. Jon swung the wheel back to the right, almost hitting the inner cliff before the car miraculously righted itself.
“Pray!” Jon muttered through gritted teeth, but I was way ahead of him. Never have I prayed so loudly or with such abandon. I held onto my seatbelt with one hand and braced myself on the dashboard with the other, while we were flung from side to side as Jon tried to slow the car and bring us safely to the valley.
After what seemed like hours, but was likely only a minute or two, we saw the long stretch of the final straight into the town. I know I sobbed in relief as we slowed to a stop, halfway up the next hill, and rolled back down to the bottom. Jon slowly released the steering wheel, one finger at a time, his entire body shaking with emotion.
We slowly extricated ourselves from the MG and looked at the mountain we had almost literally flown down.
“I guess I can stop praying now,” I half joked.
Jon gripped my arm. “I think it saved us. And next week we are driving my father’s new Mercedes.”
“No argument from me,” I replied.
With shaky legs we started off into town, in search of a mechanic, and a strong cup of coffee, not necessarily in that order.
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This is non-fiction. The Hilltop Pass is part of a larger range, and although well-paved, its steepness and lack of passing lanes makes it extremely treacherous,
745 words
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