ATV racing is a total blast most of the time, and getting to the track can be quite the adventure. In April 2006, ATV Rider Magazine Editor Thad Josey and I headed out to Loretta Lynn's Dude Ranch in Hurricane Mills, Tennessee, to watch the fifth round of the GNCC racing series. The weekend had us set up with a racer and quad and a very important photo shoot bright and early Saturday morning. Little did we know, this wasn't going to happen and we were lucky we actually survived.
Let's start from about the intersection of Interstate 440 and Interstate 40 West. Mother Nature was pouring bucketloads of fresh rainwater over our heads when we came across our first accident of the day. As traffic screeched to an abrupt stop, we noticed two vehicles on the wrong side of the interstate, heading into the woods. After a little rubbernecking, we realized that this set a very dark cloud for the day.
A few more miles down the highway, we experienced our first "rubber side up" incident. A man and his Nissan Pathfinder slid eastbound past us on the roof of his SUV. As if this wreck wasn't strange enough, way back in the pack of lappers was the first racer with the bird's-eye view from the trunk lid. It seems he was looking too far up the highway and didn't notice the cars that had stopped for the bottleneck. Maybe we should leave the rest of this incident to your imagination. But let's just say the results weren't good. Scratch making good time, forget having great weather, we just wanted to get to Loretta's alive and in one piece.
Almost five miles farther up the westbound 40, I looked into the farthest right slow lane and discovered that not only had two drivers exited their broken-down cars, but one of the two had created a blockage in the fast-moving highway. This is where it got real interesting for my stunt driver, Thad, and I.
As I peered at what seemed to be a stopped vehicle in the middle of Interstate 40 West, I noticed something fast approaching me through the passenger side window-it was the hood of a 45,000-pound tractor-trailer, and he appeared to be standing hard on the brakes, trying to bring his monster to a stop. All the while, parts of cars were bursting and flying like shrapnel all around us as the tractor-trailer driver fell short on his stopping abilities.
That's when Thad, being the talented racer and reactionist that he is, instantly yanked us into the grassy knoll area, better known as the slick, wet median. I'm sure this isn't where President Kennedy was shot, but with a few more trucks and crumpling car parts flying, it just might've been a memorial site of some sort.
Now that we were safely in the median and out of the line of fire, Thad and I turned around to witness the remaining destruction. Tractor-trailer trucks were piling up quickly behind us and still at speed; they began to catch us by taking our secret line through the median. Thad stabbed the gas, with my vociferous recommendation of course, and off we went sailing down the grass median again, reentering the highway and pulling over about one-quarter mile past the carnage. Honestly, we just barely escaped the pile-up unscathed.
Whew! Our hearts were throbbing, adrenaline was swiftly creeping through our veins and we both experienced a pucker factor like never before. But we made it out and were ready to put all of that mess behind us. Have you taken a breath yet? Wait, there's more!