PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do not drink and drive. Here’s why.

April, 1970. My father, Ray Guthmiller, and his best friend, Roger Young, were in the Army Reserves. The next day was to be a VERY important inspection, so Dad & Roger decided to make the trip from Pinehurst, ID up to Wallace, ID where the base camp was. Meanwhile, my Mom, Linda, and Roger's wife, Sandy, stayed behind at the Young residence that evening. 45 minutes to an hour, tops. We'll be right back.

They never made it to even Kellogg, about 5 minutes east of Pinehurst.

When they were driving on I-90 and got to Smelterville (where Mom & Dad have lived since 1967), Dad pulled out to pass a semi. About half way, Dad saw what looked like a car coming right at him in his lane. There wasn't enough time to do anything but slam on the brakes.

They hit head on. Dad had slowed down to about 70 at impact. The other driver was going about 90.

You remember those cars from the 1960s, right? Miniature tanks with a steering wheel. The impact was so crushing their WINDSHIELDS of the two cars were touching!

So how does somebody get on the wrong side of the freeway and drive with no lights on in the passing lane heading west on an East-bound freeway? The driver, an anesthesiologist, had been fired from his job in Missoula, Montana for showing up to work drunk too many times. He had just gotten a job in Lake Chelan, Washington, and was driving towards his new job when he decided to stop in Kellogg and have a drink, or 12, before getting back on the road towards Lake Chelan.

He was drunk. VERY drunk. So drunk when they pulled his body out of his car, his foot was still on the accelerator.

Back in my Dad's car, my Dad somehow managed to come to and tried to call out to his best friend, Roger. His jaw was broken in so many places he couldn't do anything but yell. But Dad feels these two hands come from the back seat and pull him up from the steering wheel. "You're going to be OK, Ray" this comforting voice told my Dad. “RAHHH GAAAA! (Roger!)” tried yelling again. “Don’t worry about Roger” the voice told him. “Roger is in a good place right now.” Soon, sirens could be heard in the background. “Hear those sirens? They are coming for you Ray”. When the firefighters arrived and started to saw open the driver’s side door, the voice spoke again. “You hear that, they’re going to get you out of here Ray.” When the door opened, my Dad fell forward. He turned his neck to look in the back seat. There was nobody there.

As for Roger, his funeral was a few days later. He was killed on impact.

Dad had MANY touch and go moments. Over a dozen surgeries to deal with two broken legs, a broken pelvis, several broken ribs, two broken arms, two broken feet and a jaw that was wired shut.

My Mom lived her own nightmare. A husband who had one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel; a four-month-old son who got fussier by the day because his Dad wasn’t around, and the extremely vivid reminder of what happened because every time she got on the freeway to drive to Kellogg, she could see the skid marks Dad made from slamming on his brakes.

Dad spent four months in the hospital and a year off work. We learned to walk at the same time. Mom has a picture of the two of us outside the house late that summer; Dad in his wheelchair and I in my stroller.

I’m happy to say Ray and Linda Guthmiller celebrated their 46th wedding anniversary last September. Dad would eventually go back to his job as a mechanic for Bunker Hill mine and worked there until the mine shut down in 1982. The accident still affects him to this day. His back eventually forced him to retire years before he hit 65. He spends his days out in his garage where he makes pretty much anything you can think of out of wood. Mom just retired a few years ago, and they now spend their days together in the same house they were living in when the accident happened.

There is one final fascinating footnote to this story. Almost 20 years after the accident, my Dad met a person who was driving West bound on I-90 that night and passed the accident that happened in the East bound lanes. He was always troubled by something he saw that night. The newspaper only mentioned two people in the car that night. However, he asked Dad, who was that third person he saw in the back seat leaning forward and holding you upright in the driver’s seat?

To this day, there are two things I believe. I believe if you drink and drive, it’s only a matter of time before you will kill somebody. AND, I believe in angels.