she says, “I figured Mel must think I’d be safe or he wouldn’t suggest such an option.”
Leesa and Mel grabbed a bite to eat at the truck stop, then got her luggage and headed for the other trucker’s rig. That’s when she saw the mural painted on the cab and immediately wondered if this was such a good idea.
Both sides of the glossy red cab of the truck were painted with an image of a scantily clad woman. Everything inside Leesa was screaming Danger! but her options were rather limited, so she clambered into the truck’s cab.
They hit the road, and it wasn’t long before the truck driver, a total stranger, started talking about the problems he was having with his wife. Which made Leesa think, “What trouble have I gotten myself into this time?”
Leesa knew exactly what was happening. A married, overweight veteran trucker was hitting on a naive college student. Attempting to let this guy know she wasn’t available, Leesa mentioned “my boyfriend Bill” as often as possible.
And then, a few hours into what normally was an eight-hour run to Moose Jaw, the trucker chose to pull over, saying that he was going to get some sleep. It was in the middle of nowhere and traffic was minimal, but Leesa was thankful that it still was daylight.
As the trucker made his way to the back of the cab, where his bed was located, he told Leesa, “You should come back in the cab and get some sleep, too.” Terrified, she clung to the door handle and wondered, If I had to escape, what would I do? He would have all of my luggage and I’d be somewhere in Saskatchewan with nary a town in sight.
About fifteen minutes later, the trucker climbed back into his seat. “I can’t sleep if I know you’re just sitting out here awake!” he said disgustedly. And just like that, they were back on the road to Moose Jaw.
By then, the snow and wind were increasing, and it wasn’t long before the truck was caught in blizzard-like conditions. It may have been mid-afternoon, but it looked and felt more like early evening. It was in these conditions that they drove through Swift Current. As they reached the city’s eastern edge, the trucker eased off the gas to allow a bus to merge in front of his rig. About five minutes later, the Trans-Canada Highway veered to the right a bit. The bus appeared to lose its grip and started to slide sideways.
With the bus slowing, the trucker geared down. Leesa and the trucker could only watch in disbelief as the rear end of the bus continued to slide down the steep roadside and into the ditch. Eventually, the bus fell over onto its right side. Then, after only a split second, it bounced right back up and continued to fly forward, still on the same steep angle.
Leesa remembers seeing things ejected out the windows, onto the road and into the ditch. At the time, she wondered, Are those clothes flying out the windows? Once they got closer to the bus, they realized it wasn’t just clothes being tossed around like toothpicks in a storm — it was also people.
After several seconds of bone-jarring turbulence, the bus came to a crashing halt in the snowy ditch, again on its right side.
As the trucker pulled up beside the bus, he grabbed the handset for his CB and radioed for emergency assistance. Without further thought, he jumped out of the truck, yelling at Leesa, “Stay in the truck! Stay in the truck!”
There was no way she was going to stay in the truck. She climbed out and walked briskly around to the back of the bus.
“Suddenly,” she recalls, “I noticed two boys.…”
In her words: “Lying all alone, one boy — years later I would learn that it was Scott Kruger — was face down in the snowy grass, and the other was on his back. I didn’t know much about emergency situations, but I knew you shouldn’t move someone in case of neck or back injuries, so I chose to rush over to the boy who was on his back, and I knelt down. I was wearing a full-length, wool-tweed winter jacket, and was
Leesa and Mel grabbed a bite to eat at the truck stop, then got her luggage and headed for the other trucker’s rig. That’s when she saw the mural painted on the cab and immediately wondered if this was such a good idea.
Both sides of the glossy red cab of the truck were painted with an image of a scantily clad woman. Everything inside Leesa was screaming Danger! but her options were rather limited, so she clambered into the truck’s cab.
They hit the road, and it wasn’t long before the truck driver, a total stranger, started talking about the problems he was having with his wife. Which made Leesa think, “What trouble have I gotten myself into this time?”
Leesa knew exactly what was happening. A married, overweight veteran trucker was hitting on a naive college student. Attempting to let this guy know she wasn’t available, Leesa mentioned “my boyfriend Bill” as often as possible.
And then, a few hours into what normally was an eight-hour run to Moose Jaw, the trucker chose to pull over, saying that he was going to get some sleep. It was in the middle of nowhere and traffic was minimal, but Leesa was thankful that it still was daylight.
As the trucker made his way to the back of the cab, where his bed was located, he told Leesa, “You should come back in the cab and get some sleep, too.” Terrified, she clung to the door handle and wondered, If I had to escape, what would I do? He would have all of my luggage and I’d be somewhere in Saskatchewan with nary a town in sight.
About fifteen minutes later, the trucker climbed back into his seat. “I can’t sleep if I know you’re just sitting out here awake!” he said disgustedly. And just like that, they were back on the road to Moose Jaw.
By then, the snow and wind were increasing, and it wasn’t long before the truck was caught in blizzard-like conditions. It may have been mid-afternoon, but it looked and felt more like early evening. It was in these conditions that they drove through Swift Current. As they reached the city’s eastern edge, the trucker eased off the gas to allow a bus to merge in front of his rig. About five minutes later, the Trans-Canada Highway veered to the right a bit. The bus appeared to lose its grip and started to slide sideways.
With the bus slowing, the trucker geared down. Leesa and the trucker could only watch in disbelief as the rear end of the bus continued to slide down the steep roadside and into the ditch. Eventually, the bus fell over onto its right side. Then, after only a split second, it bounced right back up and continued to fly forward, still on the same steep angle.
Leesa remembers seeing things ejected out the windows, onto the road and into the ditch. At the time, she wondered, Are those clothes flying out the windows? Once they got closer to the bus, they realized it wasn’t just clothes being tossed around like toothpicks in a storm — it was also people.
After several seconds of bone-jarring turbulence, the bus came to a crashing halt in the snowy ditch, again on its right side.
As the trucker pulled up beside the bus, he grabbed the handset for his CB and radioed for emergency assistance. Without further thought, he jumped out of the truck, yelling at Leesa, “Stay in the truck! Stay in the truck!”
There was no way she was going to stay in the truck. She climbed out and walked briskly around to the back of the bus.
“Suddenly,” she recalls, “I noticed two boys.…”
In her words: “Lying all alone, one boy — years later I would learn that it was Scott Kruger — was face down in the snowy grass, and the other was on his back. I didn’t know much about emergency situations, but I knew you shouldn’t move someone in case of neck or back injuries, so I chose to rush over to the boy who was on his back, and I knelt down. I was wearing a full-length, wool-tweed winter jacket, and was
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