OPINION
It’s been a busy fall, to say the least.
I’ve been on a photo shoot in Oregon, a whitetail hunt in East Texas, a pheasant hunt in South Dakota, an elk hunt in New Mexico, and I’m currently prepping for another photo shoot in Louisiana.
After all of that, one phrase comes to mind: “Be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.”
If you told my 20-yearold self that my career would take me on all sorts of outdoor adventures, I would’ve simply said, “I’ve made it.”
But, here’s the thing— I’m not the same person I was when I was 20 years old, even though I still need to be reminded of that fact from time to time.
The most recent reminder came on my way back from South Dakota, in the form of approximately 200,000 pounds.
At about 2 a.m. on I-35, I noticed tail lights in the middle of my lane and I slowed down to see a father and his 12-year-old son standing next to their car, which they’d crashed into the highway’s railing.
After pulling off of the highway, I yelled, “Y’all need to get off the road.”
The father said, “Our hazard lights aren’t working.”
Their black car was sitting in the middle of the lane.
I yelled again, louder this time, “Get off the road!”
They both began to walk toward me and, within seconds, a semitruck plowed into their car going about 80 miles per hour.
It skidded off the road and rolled, coming to a halt about 200 yards away in a large grassy median.
I told the father and son to get off the road, and I ran up to the semi.
The two drivers seemed to be intact but were trapped inside the cab and the engine was smoking badly.
At this point, the father had come to help me get them out and, as we were prying at the glass, we heard a deafening crash.
We looked up to realize that another semi, this time hauling two trailers, had hit the same car and launched off the side of the highway.
It was barreling directly toward us.
As soon as the truck hit the ground, we realized it wasn’t stopping, so we turned to run as it slammed into the first semi, sending a wave of debris in our direction— a cedar tree, tire, bent metal and an entire cable railing whipped over our heads as we dove headfirst into a small patch of brush.
Seconds later, more commotion: Two cars had hit the debris, blowing their tires as they skidded off the road.
Sitting among the wreckage, I sat up and looked at the man next to me.
We both had the same thought, “How are we still alive?”
For the sake of brevity, I’ll just say that everyone else was, too.
The two drivers in the first semi walked away with minor injuries, while the driver in the second semi suffered a severe gash to the forearm, and his passenger suffered a compound fracture of the femur and had to be extracted with the jaws of life by EMS. After staying to make sure everyone was going to pull through, I hopped back in my truck and slowly drove to the nearest hotel.
It was an odd start to a busy fall season and, honestly, it hasn’t been a great fall season.
Since that night, I’ve lost my wallet, been pulled over by a state trooper without a license (see lost wallet), took a bad shot on a buck and spent Halloween away from my family trying to find it, had another near miss when my camper’s leaf springs sheared in half and I’m currently recovering from the flu.
You know what? I don’t really care. It’s funny how a few semis can reframe your perspective.
All of those frustrations have been replaced with something much greater: gratitude.
I’m grateful that I was alive to call my family and tell them I love them.
I’m grateful that I have a family to call.
I’m grateful that I get to continue on my silly little adventures, no matter how badly I tend to screw them up.
I don’t pretend to know what God is planning, but I’m grateful I know Him and can offer a heartfelt “thanks” on the side of I-35, sitting among the bent metal and mangled cedar trees.
Shoot, even having the flu is a nice reminder that I made it off I-35.
It may seem too tidy to offer up this story the week of Thanksgiving but, believe it or not, I didn’t plan it this way.
I also didn’t plan any of the past few months to go the way they did.
But, if I’ve learned anything since I was 20 years old, it’s this: We don’t always get what we want, and that’s OK, because we don’t always get what we deserve, either.
I couldn’t be more thankful for that.
Steve Schwartz is a writer and photographer based in Aubrey. His work has been featured by MeatEater, Field & Stream, Popular Science, Game & Fish, The Fly Fish Journal, American Angler and many more. You can reach him at [email protected].
