The nearly new candy apple red PT Cruiser in her heyday.
EDITOR'S NOTE: It is with a mixture of sadness and rejoicing that we wish Grandma Connie a delightful journey back to her Heavenly Home where she will be encircled by those who have gone on before her. She will always be in our hearts and we will relish her lovely stories. Bon Voyage and hold a spot for us, Grandma Connie Ebbert!
chariot of fire
By Grandma Connie, Guest Contributor
A terrifying ordeal and the good Samaritans who stepped in!
One cold, dark November night I had the most terrifying experience I have ever endured. My daughter and I had gone to a neighboring city to get my young grandsons. The oldest of the boys, Austin, 13, was slated to go on his first deer-hunting trip with his father early the next morning and I was planning to keep his 10-year old brother, Travis, for the weekend.
As I was suffering from night vision difficulties, I asked my daughter to drive me in my nearly new candy apple red PT Cruiser to pick the boys up. By the time we got into the city, loaded the boys, and were heading home, it was black as the ace of spades. As it had been overcast all day and was now a bit foggy to boot, visibility was not as great as I would have liked.
Once we were away from the city lights, I remember thinking, ‘It is so dark and deserted on the road this evening.’ There were only a few vehicles on the divided four-lane highway and the median was so wide that oncoming headlights were no help on our side.
We were talking and enjoying the boys, and Travis was telling me about the board game he was holding in his hand. Suddenly, I heard my daughter yell, “Hold on!” It drew my attention back to the front of the car just as my world tilted on its axis.
I caught a glimpse of the huge hind quarter of a deer directly in front of me. My immediate thought was, ‘That thing is so close it is going to come right through the windshield at me.’
My daughter later told me it had just jumped into our path—from out of nowhere. We later figured out it had literally leaped up over the blind road edge and landed inches from the front of the car. We had no time to react or even tense up.
On impact, the airbags on both sides exploded, blocking our view of the road ahead. We were instantly submerged in darkness.
I told my daughter to pull off before she stopped. That way, no one would hit our darkened car from behind. She attempted to get onto the shoulder, but with the dust hanging thickly suspended inside the car, we could see nothing inside or outside of the vehicle. At that moment there were no headlights on our side of the highway to help us. I heard her yell, “I can’t see anything. Can you see if we’re on the shoulder yet?” She said something about the brakes. But it wasn’t until later that I comprehended, they were not working right. We rolled for a moment, seeking the relative safety of the shoulder, as she tried to get the car to stop.
This was back before they put those scrub board things at the edge of the road and there was no little drop to warn you when you got too close to the shoulder. I noted she was pushing the airbag to get it out of her face. For some reason, it was not deflated yet.
As I was straining to see out the side window, so I could tell her when we were safely off the highway, she started getting even more excited. Her next words had my eyes darting back inside the car, “We’re on fire!”
All I could think was, ‘That’s not possible! Cars don’t just burst into flames because you hit a deer. She must be imagining things.’
I looked out her side and saw flames coming up the outside of the windshield, and thought, ‘Oh no! We really are on fire!’
I felt the tires drop off the pavement and begin sliding down a huge embankment that was so steep my shoulder was thrown against the door as she tried to stop the car without letting it flip over.
At one point she yelled, “ . . . have to get to a flatter area!” I could see her struggling to keep control of the car, as down we went at an angle—all the way to the bottom.
To me, everything felt like it was happening very quickly. She told me that to her, the events of that night were in painfully slow motion. She said it seemed to take forever to reach a flat area.
At one point she told the boys, “I want you guys to jump out, run straight back from the car, and wait for grandma and me. Stay together." The boys unbuckled and prepared to jump out as the car finally slowed.
Once on more level terrain, and at last pushing the airbag out of my face, what I saw coming at me scared me almost as badly as the deer had—it was a large wooden fence post coming directly toward me. She must have seen it, too, because she pulled the emergency brake. I am not sure if that is what finally stopped us or not. Her door was jammed. She only managed to open it by slamming her shoulder against it repeatedly. She ran around and jerked my door open. Reaching around me, she unfastened my seat belt—in my panicked state, I had not had the presence of mind to unbuckle it.
She struggled to get me turned and out as one strap of my purse was tangled around my ankles and the other was around the emergency break. I was effectively shackled to the car and she was having a really hard time in the dark with only the light of the flames to see by. I finally got her to understand that I was caught by my feet. She yelled for the boys to come back and help her get me out. It was terrifying! The flames were getting hotter and bigger with each passing second. I imagined the interior would ignite soon. I think we were all wondering if the car would explode like you see in the movies.
Once she got me free, she and the boys helped me stumble away from the car. I had two bad knees, and walking on slanted uneven ground was a real challenge for me. She told the boys to sit me down and stay right with me. Then, without a word, she darted off.
Almost the moment I sat down, two men appeared and helped me get further away from the blazing car. They said they were afraid it would explode and felt we were still too close. They practically carried me further from the car. They said they had seen it happen and immediately crossed over the median in their pick-up truck to come to our aid before anyone else could get to us.
As we waited for firefighters to arrive, they told me what they had seen—the huge buck jumped into our headlights—and when we hit it they believed it went straight up in the air about 20 feet—which was a good thing because they thought it would come straight through the windshield at us. That was exactly what I had first feared. They speculated that it was following the scent of a female and was totally unaware of the highway as it popped up over the edge of the road, landing almost on top of our car hood.
I sure wish I had gotten the names of those good Samaritans so I could have properly thanked them. But I do think of them and pray Heaven's blessings on them for the help and comfort they rendered to me that night.
My daughter had apparently run back to the car after she deposited me with the boys to see if she could get her cell phone out. One of our guardian angels got to her just as she grabbed it out of the flaming car. She said he took her arm and pulled her further away. I was not sure what she was thinking to go back near that inferno.
She later explained that since we were so far down off the highway, she was afraid no one would know we were there and in trouble. Because the dry grass was starting to burn, she needed help getting us out of the deep ravine. By the time my helper pulled her back to where I was sitting with the boys, she was already busy talking to the 911 dispatcher. I heard her arguing with whoever was on the other end about exactly where we were, since we were in a rural area, they needed a more precise location. I heard her say that they should send a fire truck out from town heading north on the highway about 2 miles past the city limits When they passed the trailer court, they should start looking down on the right and we would be the car at the bottom of the ravine with flames shooting up in the air.
That description, when she repeated it for me later, struck me as kind of funny. But as I thought about it, l could think of no better way to describe where we had finally stopped. It took her what felt like forever to get the person on the other end to understand. I think she said she could see the city lights of the next little town, but it was so dark and we were so far down from the highway she could not give them a more accurate location.
Finally, in frustration, she told the boys again not to leave my side and she climbed the hill with help from one of the men, to watch for fire or police to come.
As I was suffering from night vision difficulties, I asked my daughter to drive me in my nearly new candy apple red PT Cruiser to pick the boys up. By the time we got into the city, loaded the boys, and were heading home, it was black as the ace of spades. As it had been overcast all day and was now a bit foggy to boot, visibility was not as great as I would have liked.
Once we were away from the city lights, I remember thinking, ‘It is so dark and deserted on the road this evening.’ There were only a few vehicles on the divided four-lane highway and the median was so wide that oncoming headlights were no help on our side.
We were talking and enjoying the boys, and Travis was telling me about the board game he was holding in his hand. Suddenly, I heard my daughter yell, “Hold on!” It drew my attention back to the front of the car just as my world tilted on its axis.
I caught a glimpse of the huge hind quarter of a deer directly in front of me. My immediate thought was, ‘That thing is so close it is going to come right through the windshield at me.’
My daughter later told me it had just jumped into our path—from out of nowhere. We later figured out it had literally leaped up over the blind road edge and landed inches from the front of the car. We had no time to react or even tense up.
On impact, the airbags on both sides exploded, blocking our view of the road ahead. We were instantly submerged in darkness.
I told my daughter to pull off before she stopped. That way, no one would hit our darkened car from behind. She attempted to get onto the shoulder, but with the dust hanging thickly suspended inside the car, we could see nothing inside or outside of the vehicle. At that moment there were no headlights on our side of the highway to help us. I heard her yell, “I can’t see anything. Can you see if we’re on the shoulder yet?” She said something about the brakes. But it wasn’t until later that I comprehended, they were not working right. We rolled for a moment, seeking the relative safety of the shoulder, as she tried to get the car to stop.
This was back before they put those scrub board things at the edge of the road and there was no little drop to warn you when you got too close to the shoulder. I noted she was pushing the airbag to get it out of her face. For some reason, it was not deflated yet.
As I was straining to see out the side window, so I could tell her when we were safely off the highway, she started getting even more excited. Her next words had my eyes darting back inside the car, “We’re on fire!”
All I could think was, ‘That’s not possible! Cars don’t just burst into flames because you hit a deer. She must be imagining things.’
I looked out her side and saw flames coming up the outside of the windshield, and thought, ‘Oh no! We really are on fire!’
I felt the tires drop off the pavement and begin sliding down a huge embankment that was so steep my shoulder was thrown against the door as she tried to stop the car without letting it flip over.
At one point she yelled, “ . . . have to get to a flatter area!” I could see her struggling to keep control of the car, as down we went at an angle—all the way to the bottom.
To me, everything felt like it was happening very quickly. She told me that to her, the events of that night were in painfully slow motion. She said it seemed to take forever to reach a flat area.
At one point she told the boys, “I want you guys to jump out, run straight back from the car, and wait for grandma and me. Stay together." The boys unbuckled and prepared to jump out as the car finally slowed.
Once on more level terrain, and at last pushing the airbag out of my face, what I saw coming at me scared me almost as badly as the deer had—it was a large wooden fence post coming directly toward me. She must have seen it, too, because she pulled the emergency brake. I am not sure if that is what finally stopped us or not. Her door was jammed. She only managed to open it by slamming her shoulder against it repeatedly. She ran around and jerked my door open. Reaching around me, she unfastened my seat belt—in my panicked state, I had not had the presence of mind to unbuckle it.
She struggled to get me turned and out as one strap of my purse was tangled around my ankles and the other was around the emergency break. I was effectively shackled to the car and she was having a really hard time in the dark with only the light of the flames to see by. I finally got her to understand that I was caught by my feet. She yelled for the boys to come back and help her get me out. It was terrifying! The flames were getting hotter and bigger with each passing second. I imagined the interior would ignite soon. I think we were all wondering if the car would explode like you see in the movies.
Once she got me free, she and the boys helped me stumble away from the car. I had two bad knees, and walking on slanted uneven ground was a real challenge for me. She told the boys to sit me down and stay right with me. Then, without a word, she darted off.
Almost the moment I sat down, two men appeared and helped me get further away from the blazing car. They said they were afraid it would explode and felt we were still too close. They practically carried me further from the car. They said they had seen it happen and immediately crossed over the median in their pick-up truck to come to our aid before anyone else could get to us.
As we waited for firefighters to arrive, they told me what they had seen—the huge buck jumped into our headlights—and when we hit it they believed it went straight up in the air about 20 feet—which was a good thing because they thought it would come straight through the windshield at us. That was exactly what I had first feared. They speculated that it was following the scent of a female and was totally unaware of the highway as it popped up over the edge of the road, landing almost on top of our car hood.
I sure wish I had gotten the names of those good Samaritans so I could have properly thanked them. But I do think of them and pray Heaven's blessings on them for the help and comfort they rendered to me that night.
My daughter had apparently run back to the car after she deposited me with the boys to see if she could get her cell phone out. One of our guardian angels got to her just as she grabbed it out of the flaming car. She said he took her arm and pulled her further away. I was not sure what she was thinking to go back near that inferno.
She later explained that since we were so far down off the highway, she was afraid no one would know we were there and in trouble. Because the dry grass was starting to burn, she needed help getting us out of the deep ravine. By the time my helper pulled her back to where I was sitting with the boys, she was already busy talking to the 911 dispatcher. I heard her arguing with whoever was on the other end about exactly where we were, since we were in a rural area, they needed a more precise location. I heard her say that they should send a fire truck out from town heading north on the highway about 2 miles past the city limits When they passed the trailer court, they should start looking down on the right and we would be the car at the bottom of the ravine with flames shooting up in the air.
That description, when she repeated it for me later, struck me as kind of funny. But as I thought about it, l could think of no better way to describe where we had finally stopped. It took her what felt like forever to get the person on the other end to understand. I think she said she could see the city lights of the next little town, but it was so dark and we were so far down from the highway she could not give them a more accurate location.
Finally, in frustration, she told the boys again not to leave my side and she climbed the hill with help from one of the men, to watch for fire or police to come.
The first responders, highway patrol, firemen and the paramedics all got there a few minutes later. They strapped me to a backboard and pulled me by rope to the top. I still clearly see in my mind what the sky looked like as I was bumping and sliding, head first, up the long hill—totally alone in the dark with only a couple of muted stars and the reflections of the fire several feet away to break up the inky blackness. It was surreal.
Photo courtesy of The Fulton Sun
11/11/05
At the top, the paramedics helped me up and sat me on the step of the ambulance and took my vitals. They told me I needed to go to a hospital because my blood pressure was so high, I was in danger of having a stroke and my heart rate was out of control. As I sat there trying to calm down, I remember my daughter trying to keep the boys away from the highway traffic and emergency vehicles. I was worried they might get hit, as they were too excited to pay much attention to moving vehicles. I could not calm down. Eventually, my daughter persuaded me to go on to the hospital with the ambulance.
While they were getting the stretcher out of the back, I had a clear view to watch my car below me, as I continued trying to process what had just happened. I’ll never forget looking down that steep hill and watching my pretty red car burn as if it were a huge log feeding a roaring bonfire. That is not a picture you can ever get out of your head. Especially, when you realize how close you and your family just came to being toasted inside it.
I was taken 35 miles away to a hospital. I am still not sure how the boys and my daughter got home that night. But shortly after I got to the emergency room, she arrived as well. I could tell she was worried sick about me. I was given some medicines that got my blood pressure under control. Finally, well after midnight, she was allowed to take me home. .
Photo courtesy of The Fulton Sun
11/11/05
At the top, the paramedics helped me up and sat me on the step of the ambulance and took my vitals. They told me I needed to go to a hospital because my blood pressure was so high, I was in danger of having a stroke and my heart rate was out of control. As I sat there trying to calm down, I remember my daughter trying to keep the boys away from the highway traffic and emergency vehicles. I was worried they might get hit, as they were too excited to pay much attention to moving vehicles. I could not calm down. Eventually, my daughter persuaded me to go on to the hospital with the ambulance.
While they were getting the stretcher out of the back, I had a clear view to watch my car below me, as I continued trying to process what had just happened. I’ll never forget looking down that steep hill and watching my pretty red car burn as if it were a huge log feeding a roaring bonfire. That is not a picture you can ever get out of your head. Especially, when you realize how close you and your family just came to being toasted inside it.
I was taken 35 miles away to a hospital. I am still not sure how the boys and my daughter got home that night. But shortly after I got to the emergency room, she arrived as well. I could tell she was worried sick about me. I was given some medicines that got my blood pressure under control. Finally, well after midnight, she was allowed to take me home. .
She apologized over and over. I cannot see what she could have done much differently, as the night was really dark and none of us could see through the airbags, dust, and flames to find a safe place to stop. We later learned that the impact had affected the brakes, so I doubt she could have stopped before she did anyway, especially considering the 6-8 inch slanted drop the road took at the edge of the pavement.
The unusually steep drop-off from the road.
It was literally days before the boys calmed down. They called the incident, “Scary fun, like a haunted house.” When their dad arrived, Austin bragged that he was in the car that got the first deer of the hunting season.
The next day when I got up, I was greeted by a front page picture of my burning car surrounded by firemen. The paper said we were traveling at a “high rate of speed.” But I know she had the cruise set on less than 65, because I had looked a minute or two before we came through the last curve.
I did not like anyone driving faster than that in my car, even if the speed limit was 70 mph and I usually checked when someone drove me. It’s just a senior habit, I guess. But those words in the paper really upset my daughter. Even today, she gets spitting mad about that. That accusation really embarrassed her.
The day after the wreck, we got a phone call from the TV station. They asked us to meet them at the garage and do an interview in front of the car. I did not want to be on television, but my daughter persuaded me to go anyway.
We went early and got what we could out of the car. All the boys’ clothes, with the exception of Austin’s jacket were intact, though they reeked of smoke. The game Travis had been showing me was mostly undamaged. Additionally, so were their school bags, containing their assignments, which severely disappointed them.
Sadly, due to the heat, flames and water, all my daughters newly purchased Christmas CD’s, as well as her purse were ruined. Strangely, out of her purse, the only thing undamaged was her church identification card. I felt that was a message. My purse had survived only because she had had to pull it off my feet after we got out of the car the night before. I felt bad she lost her stuff. But she was okay with it. She had even managed to get Austin another coat before his dad came to get him, so he could still go hunting.
The unusually steep drop-off from the road.
It was literally days before the boys calmed down. They called the incident, “Scary fun, like a haunted house.” When their dad arrived, Austin bragged that he was in the car that got the first deer of the hunting season.
The next day when I got up, I was greeted by a front page picture of my burning car surrounded by firemen. The paper said we were traveling at a “high rate of speed.” But I know she had the cruise set on less than 65, because I had looked a minute or two before we came through the last curve.
I did not like anyone driving faster than that in my car, even if the speed limit was 70 mph and I usually checked when someone drove me. It’s just a senior habit, I guess. But those words in the paper really upset my daughter. Even today, she gets spitting mad about that. That accusation really embarrassed her.
The day after the wreck, we got a phone call from the TV station. They asked us to meet them at the garage and do an interview in front of the car. I did not want to be on television, but my daughter persuaded me to go anyway.
We went early and got what we could out of the car. All the boys’ clothes, with the exception of Austin’s jacket were intact, though they reeked of smoke. The game Travis had been showing me was mostly undamaged. Additionally, so were their school bags, containing their assignments, which severely disappointed them.
Sadly, due to the heat, flames and water, all my daughters newly purchased Christmas CD’s, as well as her purse were ruined. Strangely, out of her purse, the only thing undamaged was her church identification card. I felt that was a message. My purse had survived only because she had had to pull it off my feet after we got out of the car the night before. I felt bad she lost her stuff. But she was okay with it. She had even managed to get Austin another coat before his dad came to get him, so he could still go hunting.
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The interview went okay, but I tried to stay out of the picture as much as I could. I hated having to be on TV. I asked my daughter do most of the interview in my place.
Looking back now, I am not sure why the car caught on fire so swiftly. I do remember the tow company owner telling me they had no idea how we drove it without flipping on that steep embankment, as the brakes were so damaged. The impact had shoved the radiator into the motor and the windshield was busted out from the heat. They also told me the battery had ruptured. We never found out if it was from the impact or the fire.
Needless to say, I never could stand the thought of getting another P T cruiser after that.
Every time I think about that night, I wonder how we did not get hurt or flip end over end down what turned out to be a 35-foot embankment. I just know God must have had more for each of us to accomplish on this earth, to have let us come through relatively unscathed—as was evidenced by the only thing in my daughter’s purse to survive unharmed from the heat, flames, and water.
Our survival is something I am grateful for every day. Because of that night, I try to do all I can to be better than I was the day before, so God will not regret letting me and my family stay on this beautiful earth these extra years.
That cold foggy night in November is one I will always remember because I have never been so scared in my entire life.
My son-in-law at the bottom of the ravine.
Looking back now, I am not sure why the car caught on fire so swiftly. I do remember the tow company owner telling me they had no idea how we drove it without flipping on that steep embankment, as the brakes were so damaged. The impact had shoved the radiator into the motor and the windshield was busted out from the heat. They also told me the battery had ruptured. We never found out if it was from the impact or the fire.
Needless to say, I never could stand the thought of getting another P T cruiser after that.
Every time I think about that night, I wonder how we did not get hurt or flip end over end down what turned out to be a 35-foot embankment. I just know God must have had more for each of us to accomplish on this earth, to have let us come through relatively unscathed—as was evidenced by the only thing in my daughter’s purse to survive unharmed from the heat, flames, and water.
Our survival is something I am grateful for every day. Because of that night, I try to do all I can to be better than I was the day before, so God will not regret letting me and my family stay on this beautiful earth these extra years.
That cold foggy night in November is one I will always remember because I have never been so scared in my entire life.
My son-in-law at the bottom of the ravine.
Copyright © 2014 by Rent's Due Publications
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.