STANG RED
08-05-2009, 01:02 PM
Do we have a Bermuda triangle in the Texas panhandle or what?
I had three very strange occurrences happen to me just a couple months back, and it all happened within just a few weeks of one another. And they all happened in the same general geographic location in the Texas panhandle. This is the first time I’m telling this story, so be patient while reading it. I’m sure I could edit it way down, and surely will at some point in the future. But this is how it’s coming out of my head right now, so just bare with me.
I have an office in Holdrege Nebraska that I have to travel back and forth to regularly. Generally I take hwy 70 north out of Sweetwater, then work my way over to hwy 83 at some point in the route. Sometime I join up to 83 at Hamlin, sometime at Throckmorton, or on some occasions I will go all the way to Perryton before intersecting.
The first weird occurrence happened on 83 just south of Canadian a couple miles. I was cruising along, listening to my XM channel 7 70s music. I was really enjoying listening to those old tunes that brought back many great memories of my youth. Then all of the sudden a song came on that I probably hadn’t heard once since my high school days. The song was by a German band called Silver Convention, and was a #1 hit in 1975. “Fly Robin Fly” is not only the title of the song, it is also the opening words of the song. These words just start very abruptly at the beginning, without any music intro at all. So it’s almost a little startling on its own, without the added dimension of what happened next.
Just as I was topping a small hill and curve (which made the road any farther than 20-30 feet out of view), the song came blaring over the radio. At that same instance a red robin came into view that was setting in the middle of my lane, only a few feet away. But just at the last second the robin took flight and barely avoided my truck. The hair on the back of my neck immediately stood on end, as I had the strangest sensation come over me. All I could do was just laugh in amazement, and wonder what the odds were of such a strange occurrence. Little did I know, this was just the beginning.
On my return trip a week or so later, things just got weirder. This time I exited off of 83 on to 70 just south of Perryton. It was very late in the day, and I just about talked myself into stopping in Pampa for the night, and finishing my trip home the following morning. But after stopping and getting a bite to eat, taking a break and stretching my legs, I got my second wind and decided to venture on. I soon realized this was a mistake, because I quickly starting getting pretty sleepy, and it had gotten dark by now, so it was getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open. Try finding a motel on hwy 70, late at night, anywhere between Clarendon and Sweetwater. It aint happening. Anyway, this time I’m listening to a classic county music channel, and really enjoying some old country standards I hadn’t heard in many years. These old soulful country songs probably weren’t my best choice for trying to stay awake, but I was enjoying them way too much to change the channel. Just as my eyes are really getting heavy, and I’m drifting in and out of semi consciousness, things got weird again. An old 1968 tune by Johnny Cash came blaring on, seemingly a bit louder than normal, and just enough to jar me back awake enough for my eyes to focus on the green roadside just ahead. The sign said “Matador 3”. It was then that I realized the song was “The Matador”, which I honestly cant remember every hearing before. Once again I got that same strange sensation that I felt only a few days earlier with the robin incident. I immediately woke right up, starting laughing, and again pondering the odds. Just as I pulled into the Allsups at Matador for fuel, refreshment, a badly needed leg stretch and bathroom break, the song ended. Now my spirits were lifted and I was wide awake. With the help of that song and a couple cups of coffee, I made it on home without another incident. That song may have well saved my life. There was an unmarked 90 degree turn just beyond that “Matador 3” sign, that I’m sure I would have missed, had I not been startled awake when I was. Thanks to God and Johnny Cash!
Now this third incident wouldn’t be all that significant, had it not been for the previous two. But in light of those and where they happened, this one just added to the weirdness.
It was on my next trip back from Nebraska. Strangely the trip up there was uneventful, but the same cannot be said for the trip home a few days later. I had once again gotten a late start for my trip home, but was feeling fine and was sure I could make the 11-12 hour drive without too much trouble, and once again figured I would stay over in Perryton or Pampa if I felt the need. Things went along just fine for the first half of the trip, as usual. But once again, I began to get very tired in that lonesome stretch between Pampa and Sweetwater. I wasn’t falling asleep yet this time, but I’m sure it was almost inevitably coming on. But for the time being, I was rocking along pretty well, listening to my tunes, and putting miles behind me. Now if you’ve ever been on that stretch of 70 between Clarendon and Turkey, you know you had better have your wits about you, especially if it’s a pitch black night. There are lots of quick little turns as you descend down into Paloduro canyon, and back up the other side. And 70 mph is way too fast to be going, even under ideal conditions. But I was just tired and anxious enough to get home, already had the cruise set on 70, and impaired enough by fatigue to where I wasn’t making the smartest decisions. Well evidently the angels that had been looking over me before, decided to shake my world one more time, and bring me back to reality. There is a flat straight part of that road for about ¼ of a mile right in the bottom of the canyon. Thank goodness that is where I had my blowout on my left rear tire. Had it happened on one of those hairpin turns on either side of the canyon, I doubt I’d be here today telling this story. At first I was upset at the prospect of having to change a tire, in the pitch black, in the middle of nowhere. But after getting it changed, and climbing back out of the canyon on that curvy road on the other side, I quickly realized just how lucky I had been once again. And now that I was fully awake and alert again, I made the remainder of the trip without any problems. But the story doesn’t quite end there. After getting home somewhere around 3 or 4 in the morning, I grabbed a few good hours of sleep, then got up and headed down to the local Firestone store where I had bought my tires only a few months earlier. They showed me a huge gash in the tire, right in the middle of the tread, and told me I must have ran over something big. I know to this day, I didn’t hit a thing. And how did it not gash my front tire, which had to be traveling in the same path, ahead of the rear? They nor I could explain that, especially after inspecting the front tire for any signs of damage. There wasn’t even the slightest cut in the front tire.
Now I know some may not believe this story, but I swear on the graves of all my ancestors that it is 100% true. To you I can only say, I can only hope your angels are looking over you as well as mine are taking care of me. And if you pay attention, they’ll probably prove it to you someday sooner or later.
I had three very strange occurrences happen to me just a couple months back, and it all happened within just a few weeks of one another. And they all happened in the same general geographic location in the Texas panhandle. This is the first time I’m telling this story, so be patient while reading it. I’m sure I could edit it way down, and surely will at some point in the future. But this is how it’s coming out of my head right now, so just bare with me.
I have an office in Holdrege Nebraska that I have to travel back and forth to regularly. Generally I take hwy 70 north out of Sweetwater, then work my way over to hwy 83 at some point in the route. Sometime I join up to 83 at Hamlin, sometime at Throckmorton, or on some occasions I will go all the way to Perryton before intersecting.
The first weird occurrence happened on 83 just south of Canadian a couple miles. I was cruising along, listening to my XM channel 7 70s music. I was really enjoying listening to those old tunes that brought back many great memories of my youth. Then all of the sudden a song came on that I probably hadn’t heard once since my high school days. The song was by a German band called Silver Convention, and was a #1 hit in 1975. “Fly Robin Fly” is not only the title of the song, it is also the opening words of the song. These words just start very abruptly at the beginning, without any music intro at all. So it’s almost a little startling on its own, without the added dimension of what happened next.
Just as I was topping a small hill and curve (which made the road any farther than 20-30 feet out of view), the song came blaring over the radio. At that same instance a red robin came into view that was setting in the middle of my lane, only a few feet away. But just at the last second the robin took flight and barely avoided my truck. The hair on the back of my neck immediately stood on end, as I had the strangest sensation come over me. All I could do was just laugh in amazement, and wonder what the odds were of such a strange occurrence. Little did I know, this was just the beginning.
On my return trip a week or so later, things just got weirder. This time I exited off of 83 on to 70 just south of Perryton. It was very late in the day, and I just about talked myself into stopping in Pampa for the night, and finishing my trip home the following morning. But after stopping and getting a bite to eat, taking a break and stretching my legs, I got my second wind and decided to venture on. I soon realized this was a mistake, because I quickly starting getting pretty sleepy, and it had gotten dark by now, so it was getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open. Try finding a motel on hwy 70, late at night, anywhere between Clarendon and Sweetwater. It aint happening. Anyway, this time I’m listening to a classic county music channel, and really enjoying some old country standards I hadn’t heard in many years. These old soulful country songs probably weren’t my best choice for trying to stay awake, but I was enjoying them way too much to change the channel. Just as my eyes are really getting heavy, and I’m drifting in and out of semi consciousness, things got weird again. An old 1968 tune by Johnny Cash came blaring on, seemingly a bit louder than normal, and just enough to jar me back awake enough for my eyes to focus on the green roadside just ahead. The sign said “Matador 3”. It was then that I realized the song was “The Matador”, which I honestly cant remember every hearing before. Once again I got that same strange sensation that I felt only a few days earlier with the robin incident. I immediately woke right up, starting laughing, and again pondering the odds. Just as I pulled into the Allsups at Matador for fuel, refreshment, a badly needed leg stretch and bathroom break, the song ended. Now my spirits were lifted and I was wide awake. With the help of that song and a couple cups of coffee, I made it on home without another incident. That song may have well saved my life. There was an unmarked 90 degree turn just beyond that “Matador 3” sign, that I’m sure I would have missed, had I not been startled awake when I was. Thanks to God and Johnny Cash!
Now this third incident wouldn’t be all that significant, had it not been for the previous two. But in light of those and where they happened, this one just added to the weirdness.
It was on my next trip back from Nebraska. Strangely the trip up there was uneventful, but the same cannot be said for the trip home a few days later. I had once again gotten a late start for my trip home, but was feeling fine and was sure I could make the 11-12 hour drive without too much trouble, and once again figured I would stay over in Perryton or Pampa if I felt the need. Things went along just fine for the first half of the trip, as usual. But once again, I began to get very tired in that lonesome stretch between Pampa and Sweetwater. I wasn’t falling asleep yet this time, but I’m sure it was almost inevitably coming on. But for the time being, I was rocking along pretty well, listening to my tunes, and putting miles behind me. Now if you’ve ever been on that stretch of 70 between Clarendon and Turkey, you know you had better have your wits about you, especially if it’s a pitch black night. There are lots of quick little turns as you descend down into Paloduro canyon, and back up the other side. And 70 mph is way too fast to be going, even under ideal conditions. But I was just tired and anxious enough to get home, already had the cruise set on 70, and impaired enough by fatigue to where I wasn’t making the smartest decisions. Well evidently the angels that had been looking over me before, decided to shake my world one more time, and bring me back to reality. There is a flat straight part of that road for about ¼ of a mile right in the bottom of the canyon. Thank goodness that is where I had my blowout on my left rear tire. Had it happened on one of those hairpin turns on either side of the canyon, I doubt I’d be here today telling this story. At first I was upset at the prospect of having to change a tire, in the pitch black, in the middle of nowhere. But after getting it changed, and climbing back out of the canyon on that curvy road on the other side, I quickly realized just how lucky I had been once again. And now that I was fully awake and alert again, I made the remainder of the trip without any problems. But the story doesn’t quite end there. After getting home somewhere around 3 or 4 in the morning, I grabbed a few good hours of sleep, then got up and headed down to the local Firestone store where I had bought my tires only a few months earlier. They showed me a huge gash in the tire, right in the middle of the tread, and told me I must have ran over something big. I know to this day, I didn’t hit a thing. And how did it not gash my front tire, which had to be traveling in the same path, ahead of the rear? They nor I could explain that, especially after inspecting the front tire for any signs of damage. There wasn’t even the slightest cut in the front tire.
Now I know some may not believe this story, but I swear on the graves of all my ancestors that it is 100% true. To you I can only say, I can only hope your angels are looking over you as well as mine are taking care of me. And if you pay attention, they’ll probably prove it to you someday sooner or later.