Pirouette
Published on August 27, 2008
Page’s commitment to the country & western music channel the car radio had latched onto was good for 20 minutes. By that time the tribute to Hoyt Axton was getting a bit old and, because the road was taking them deeper into the mountains, the reception was strained and being distorted with a surreal tremolo, as if Hoyt Axton were an Apollo mission about to lose radio contact behind the moon. She tabbed the receiver ahead a notch and, to Beatrix’s delight, picked up k.d. lang’s “Constant Cravings,” which was about as close to a personal anthem as Beatrix could hope for. But even before k.d. finished, the tremolo was back.
“Ugh,” Page sighed, and plugged her iPod into the stereo. She steered with one hand and with the other dialed in Eddie Money’s “Two Tickets to Paradise,” which caused Beatrix to howl with delight, inasmuch as that’s where they were going, to Paradise, Montana, on what they thought was a detour stretch of state highway 135. Only they’d made a small mistake and were actually headed back to the northwest toward Thompson Falls. But it was such a nice spring day, one without appointments and conference calls, and the general direction seemed about right.
It was still a bit cold to put the top down on Page’s BMW M6 convertible, but Beatrix rolled her window down so she could smoke a Parliament 100. The Indigo Girls were now singing from the iPod and Page was joining them, near the top of her lungs.
Page was deep into the second verse when they both saw snow. As in snow on the road. It looked from afar (afar, in this case being 60 yards) that the snow was an incidental drift that could be surmounted with a good burst of speed from the BMW. And it is true, in Page’s defense, that there was more dry road on the other side of the snow drift. It was possible to get through this and continue on toward what they thought would be Paradise in the valley below. Possible, but unlikely.
The left wheel of the BMW hit a small ice bump first causing the car to deflect to the right and take a more direct line on the deeper part of the snow bank than Page intended. At that point, the car was basically a missile with a terrific sound system as it bounced hard into a buried ice wall and lifted off with a twist. It did a pirouette in the air, turned completely over so that it would land on its tires, and then landed abruptly but not too violently in a patch of slushy snow. The landing killed the engine and the electrical system, but the air bags did not deploy.
Page was stunned. She was amazed to still be alive after seeing her life pass before her in the somersault. She stiffly, and with dread, looked over at Beatrix. Her companion’s glasses were still on, but the cigarette had broken in half.
“Gawd,” Page said, “are you okay?”
Beatrix calmly lifted the cigarette from her lips, and exhaled a perfect smoke ring toward the windshield.
“Whoa,” she answered. “Bet you can’t do that again.”