The wrong kind of help can be a dangerous thing

Lorraine Sommerfeld

WHEELS COLUMNIST

As winter tightens down with determined jaws, smart drivers have already equipped their vehicles for both everyday driving and emergencies: winter wiper blades, winter tires, an emergency kit, extra washer fluid and a topped-up fuel tank.

But what do you do if it's someone else experiencing difficulty?

While I was driving a few weeks back, Christopher, 18, and I were thrust into a lake-effect storm in an unfamiliar area. As visibility vanished in the cold black night, traffic slowed to a crawl with the only beacon a huge snowplow tossing plumes of snow backward from 50 metres or so ahead.

As we crept along, I strained to find distance markers, counting down to the next exit ramp. I wanted off until things settled down, but the exits were spread far apart.

"Hey! There's a car spun off!" exclaimed Christopher, indicating a sedan nose-down in a slope off to our right. "Stop!"

"I can't stop," I told him. With two lanes of traffic carefully keeping their distance from each other, sudden moves could be dangerous, as the sedan had no doubt found out the hard way.

Christopher twisted in his seat.

"Nobody is stopping. We have to do something. You have your boots, and I have my stuff," he said. It's true. When I head out on trips of any distance in winter, I lob in extra mitts, hats and snow boots. Having to walk from a disabled vehicle in cute, but not sensible, heels leaves something to be desired.

"Get my phone out. Dial 911 and as they ask you questions, listen to what I tell you," I said. I couldn't take my eyes from the road, but I searched for distance markers.

"We need to get off and loop back," he announced.

I explained why that wouldn't be happening. Driving in conditions as terrible as the ones we found ourselves in was dangerous enough; stopping in them was suicidal. I explained that stopping on the side of a dark highway would make our vehicle a sitting target, and getting out would dangerously increase the odds of being struck by another vehicle.

It made far more sense to get proper emergency vehicles to the scene, with warning lights and personnel who could ascertain if any of the occupants of the car were hurt. For the time being, they were safer inside their car.

Christopher gave the 911 operator a description of the vehicle. As I dictated, he relayed the direction we were travelling, the highway number, the lane the car had left, and how far the sedan was from the next exit. She then patched him through to the local police.

I heard him repeat the information, then we prepared to leave the highway to ride it out.

"Nobody else had called," he told me, shaking his head.

"If those other cars only had a single driver in them, it wouldn't have been safe to call," I told him. "Even hands-free isn't safe in those conditions. We could call because I didn't have to stop driving to do it."

Those in the sedan had called for help themselves, it turned out, but had no clue of their precise whereabouts. While technology is rapidly addressing situations like this, it was still a good reminder to stay out of dangerous situations, concentrate on what you're doing, and be prepared for the worst.

Lorraine Sommerfeld's column appears Saturdays in Wheels and Mondays in the Star's Living section.

www.lorraineonline.ca

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