Fear

           The hard high barrier of the Rocky Mountains was no challenge for the Mog.  We clambered over them with the exhilarating abandonment of youth.  The crisp air and warm fingers of the sun that October can bring in the high country rushed the blood and raised the spirits.

            It was after the challenge of the mountains when the plains of Montana were laid before us and their winds were pushing us from our footing, that we nearly shook hands with tragedy.

            The Mog and I were fearless.  Gladly we met the strong wind and at every opportunity resisted that relentless hand.  One particularly hard gust challenged our authority, pushing us viciously toward the shoulder of the road.  as I turned the wheel against the blow, the Morgan ignored my command and continued its head long rush into oblivion, seduced by the wind.

           Panic seized my mind, fear gripped me as my foot jammed the brakes in an adrenalin charged crush.  The  right front brake seized before the others, throwing the car at an acute angle down off the freeway, bouncing crazily down the slope leaving a trail of flattened thistles and grasses.  A lesser of an angle would have rolled the car.  Fearing fire I killed the ignition and leaped from my pal leaving him to his own fate.

           The roar of compression thundered by as the driver of an eighteen wheeler tried to slow his hurtling giant, but seeing my wave, continued on his way.

           Wiring the steering unit back together, we carefully picked our way through the tall weeds until the embankment eased and could be scaled.  Down the road we went, leaving the past to future nightmares.