PUEBLA, Mexico - We've all seen it happen a hundred times. A car or truck is rolling along a mountain road. Maybe it's alone. Perhaps it's being chased. Either way, suddenly the driver loses control. The vehicle starts to shimmy, then shake, veering from side to side. Seconds later, it twists sideways and blasts past the narrow shoulder, flying off the edge, straight into the air.
In the next scene, the car or truck is at the bottom of an embankment, lying on its side - probably an instant away from bursting into flame.
That's because we've observed this tragedy on-screen, whether at the movies or on TV. Cars and trucks flying off the edge of a mountain, likely killing the driver and occupants, have been cinematic cliches since the early days of film. Though tragic, it's exciting. Moviegoers do love excitement. After all, it's only a movie. Nobody got hurt, really.
True enough. But when such a tragedy unfolds in real life rather than cinematic fiction, the impact is vastly stronger and longer-lasting. This story began a little more than halfway through a five-hour bus ride from the picturesque city of Oaxaca in the southern mountains to Puebla, a modern metropolis just two hours away from Mexico City.
As usual, we had front-row seats on this first-class ADO bus; on the left side, directly behind and above the driver. There's no better way to observe the magnificent vistas of the Mexican mountains than sitting tall on a bus, right up front.
An hour or so out of Oaxaca, the bus headed into the mountains. On this grayish day, the sun was out of sight. Instead, rain was looming - but reduced to only occasional sprinkles for most of the day. Rain or shine, though, the views up toward the peaks and down into the valleys proved to be stunning. We'd traveled this same road two days previous, going in the opposite direction. In scenic high country, though, you get quite a different perspective when coming back on the same road, heading north rather than south.
For miles, we'd been following a double-length semi with "Coca-Cola" emblazoned on each of its trailers. Through the miles, one vehicle after another had tried to pass the semi, which maintained a steady speed on this two-lane toll road. Except in tight curves, the shoulders, taken together, were almost big enough to make a third lane if a vehicle wound up in trouble while attempting to pass.
At one point, our own bus attempted to pass the semi. But halfway through the maneuver, the driver realized that a curve was coming up, and pushing further would be dangerous. So, he dropped back again, behind the truck.
Eventually, the curves began to ease and the dropoffs became milder - though ever-present - as the mountains started to recede. Approaching the end of a long straightaway, we looked up to see a white Suzuki SUV midway through an attempt to pass the semi. With a good view ahead, the SUV's move did not seem particularly worrisome.
Those thoughts were premature. A moment later, well before the Suzuki reached the front of the semi, complacency switched instantly to horror as we saw a small black SUV coming the other way, heading directly toward the Suzuki.
Doubtless realizing that dropping back was not an option, because he was so close to the front of the semi, the Suzuki driver pushed harder and veered to the right, in a forceful attempt to get ahead of the semi in time to avert disaster. The attempt failed. As soon as the Suzuki reached the right lane, mere feet ahead of the semi, it began to swerve violently. To the right, then the left, then right again it leaned, looking almost ready to tip over each time.
Anyone who believes that smaller SUVs are no more unstable than passenger cars should have been sitting with us in the front of that bus, watching the Suzuki driver try to reestablish some semblance of control.
After a second or two of terrifying uncertainty, the Suzuki did manage to get on course. But in order to do so, he'd obviously had to slow down abruptly. Which meant the semi also had to brake - and it was too late.
As the rear trailer began to sway, I said to my brother, sitting beside me, "He's losing control." And he was. An instant later, both trailers were rocking back and forth, for what seemed like a minute but was doubtless no more than a second.
Then came the worst. Suddenly, the entire semi veered violently to the side, toward the shoulder on the right. In no time, the cab crashed right through the guard rail, headed straight off the edge with both trailers following. A split-second later, it was gone, headed toward the valley below.
Immediately, our bus driver pulled over to the side. So did a succession of other buses, trucks, and cars. Nearly all the passengers stood up and headed for the door.
By the time we got off the bus and onto the road, dozens of people were crowding along the shoulder or climbing past the guard rail. Within seconds, a dozen men had somehow scampered down the steep embankment - which was overrun with loose rocks and stones, thus difficult to traverse even in ordinary circumstances - to try and help the driver.
Some 70 or 80 feet down, the semi lay on its left side. A young man climbed up on the cab, to try and open the right-hand door. His efforts were fruitless. Giving that up, he stood atop the door and tried valiently to kick in the windshield. In that task, he proved successful. But as far as we could determine, all of the heroic effort was expended in vain.
For a minute or two, the men appeared to deliberate. Then, they began to climb back up the embankment, heading for their vehicles. The dozens of bystanders did likewise. Engines were started, vehicles accelerated away from the shoulder. All was normal again.
Except that the semi driver was still inside the cab. Was he dead? Most likely. But we never did find out for sure, as no one on the bus could be heard to utter a word about the incident.
Rolling past the white Suzuki SUV that had triggered this tragedy, we noticed that both of its front airbags had deployed. Evidently, it hit something while trying to regain control. The guard rail? The front of the semi? Both?
What's amazing is that the Suzuki stopped at all, considering that Mexican officials aren't known for treating such culprits lightly.
Not until another 10 minutes or more had elapsed did we see an ambulance and police car racing toward the scene. This incident took place in a remote area, with no towns anywhere nearby. Cell phones were doubtless used to make an emergency call, but emergency vehicles had to come from far away.
Most of us have seen accidents, sometime in our driving lives. But not all of us have observed fatalities, or serious injuries. Personally, at age 15 I saw a woman thrown through the windshield of a Chevrolet at an intersection of two side streets in Chicago. That sight stayed with me for years, and still comes to mind in an instant.
So will the sight of that semi breaking through the guard rail and heading into the sky. Never again will I look at a similar scene in a movie or TV show without recalling this cloudy afternoon on a Mexican road.
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