Downhill Destination

Shards of wood were strewn about the rocks, branches lay in an unorganized mess, and an oak tree’s entrails spread across the ground. My entrails, surprisingly enough, were still intact. Crumpled on a bed of granite, I lay as motionless as the heaping pile of metal beside me. Whether good or bad, my limbs were frozen numb. The smell of exhaust filled the air; burnt gasoline, outstanding as I was in the otherwise undisturbed natural area around me. Goodbye, ATV; you served me well. You were gone too soon, though I hadn’t expected to lose you on such a fine day. In fact, despite the warning signs, I hadn’t expected this to happen at all.

The thing is, there’s more to all of this than a simple accident. There were factors, causes, and reasons. But first, let me set the scene.

We were up at a cabin in the northern town of Toulamine. It belonged to our family friends, the Koci’s, who had made the trip up with us. It was nice up there, in terms of scenery and weather. A large lake bordered half the town, causing light winds to brush anyone on the beach. The sky was a painted azure, and I could count on my fingers the number of clouds I could see. It was always warm, even in the dead of the night, yet never hot enough to cause discomfort. Sounds beautiful, right?

See, that’s where this paradise ended and the disenchanting reality came about. If a dangerous crash wasn’t reason enough, the crappiness of this town ensured I would never want to come back. This place was next to nothing. Less than one hundred permanent residents made Toulamine their home; it was mainly a town of rental cabins. It was, to put it bluntly, a dull place. Yet, despite this recipe for boredom, this vacation soon enough become a pain-cation.

It all began the morning of the third day. The sun was glowing, the birds were singing, and Logan was unaware of what was to come. I woke up at the early nine o’clock as my parents had made me done every day we were there. Yawning and groaning, I prepared myself for the day before taking part in the unremarkably bland breakfast that greeted me every morning.

Then, I received some interesting news at the table. News that, while unexpected, was actually quite uplifting.

“We’re going to head to the creek today,” the parents joyfully announced.

I grinned. Despite my disliking of the majority of the area, I enjoyed hiking or sitting at the side of the creek, my hands stabilizing myself on the rocks as my feet danced with the current. It was relaxing, and I’m always one for relaxation.

“Later today, we’ll pack lunch and drive down to the creek,” my mom explained.

At that point, I had already tuned her out. I was calmly ecstatic already, and no other information was needed to convince me to go. Now, all I needed to do was kill two and a half hours. Unfortunately for me, I’d later on be wishing to have those two hours take an eternity. I had no idea what I was in for.

Twelve o’clock, I was out the door. The van was loaded, everyone was ready, and I was excited. That’s when the realization hit us. Two of the Koci’s had already agreed to dirt bike and quad their way to the creek. However, there was one too many people for the van.

My dad turned to me and asked “Are you fine with taking a quad?”

It was a simple question, really, but I had no idea of the consequences that would ensue later on. Of course, I knew how to drive a quad; I did it all the time! Why would this time be any different?

So, I sealed my doom and got my helmet on as the others drove away in that big, metal box of safety. And that’s when I learned about my dilemma. Peter Koci, the father, turned towards me and told me the quad was a manual. A stick-shift quad, on rough, dirt trails and winding side roads. A stick-shift quad, something I had never driven before. Things had just gotten interesting.

Much to my surprise, the first half of the trip went quite smoothly. The dusty gravel road proved no challenge to my driving skills, and the winding dirt trail wasn’t an obstacle either. However, that wasn’t the part I was worried about.

We arrived at the top of a steep decline, where our van had been parked. The others had already made their way down to the creek, and now it was our turn. Looking back, I should’ve stopped right there. Instead, I agreed to drive further down that ninety-degree hill, all the while not knowing the difference between first and fifth gear.

Yet, Peter claimed he had a “solution”. I could keep the quad in first gear and slowly coast down the hill, but only if I went first. Foolishly, I accepted that as a smart plan.

And so with that, young Logan glided down the hill, unaware of what was about to occur.

Uneventfully, I hit the bottom of the hill at a small landing area. However, I knew we were supposed to do one more turn off to park the quads. Unfortunately, the only turn I spotted was an incredibly wrong one. I marched the quad forward at a confident pace, and proceeded to move down this path I had found. It took about three seconds to realize I had royally screwed up.

The quad hit unsteady rocks, bouncing around, revving beyond my control. I tried to stop, but there was no ground to stop on. I tried to jump off, but my body was just as carelessly tossed around as the vehicle beneath me, giving me no opportunity to propel myself to safety.

This is it, I thought as I barrelled downhill to the creek and what I presumed was my demise. But sure as I am writing this, I made it out alive- unscathed, not so much.

My ATV never quite made the trip down to the creek, as a friendly oak tree managed to stop my descent. At full force, accentuated by gravity, I slammed into the tree, my body flying forward like the ammunition of a catapult. If it weren’t for the shock and numbness, that would’ve hurt like hell.

I crumpled against the tree and sunk to the ground, where I lay still as I heard the dying engine beside me revving its last rev.

Shards of wood were strewn about the rocks, an oak tree’s entrails spread across the ground. My entrails, surprisingly enough, were still intact. Crumpled on the bed of granite below me, I lay as motionless as the heaping pile of metal beside me. My limbs were frozen numb. The smell of exhaust filled the air; burnt gasoline, outstanding as I was in the otherwise undisturbed natural area around me. Goodbye, ATV; you served me well. You were gone too soon, though luckily I was not.

 

Reflection:

I feel I did well portraying my own voice in my essay and painting the true pain of the crash.

I need to improve on tying everything into the story and pacing the action better.