There’s a nationwide manhunt on right now, but not for the reason you might think. Sixteen months after a horrible car wreck that almost proved fatal, a woman is asking for help looking for the trucker who saved her life.
The woman, Elizabeth Frothingham, was saved by a trucker who happened to be passing by, but after she recovered in the hospital, she couldn’t find him to say thank you. Below is an open letter from Elizabeth to anyone who can help her find the trucker who saved her life. The letter was originally published on The Bridge.
A stranger’s help on a lonely highway rescues the victim of a mysterious, late-night accident.
by Betsy Frothingham
It was almost midnight on August 1, 2012, and I was driving my Toyota Camry on Kansas highway 96 about 12 miles from Hutchinson. The weather was clear and calm, and there was no traffic in either direction. Just about four miles east of Haven, Kansas, a sleepy, little town of 1,200 inhabitants, my car was devastatingly rear-ended, breaking the stillness of the summer night.
From that first moment of impact, I have always felt that this car accident was deliberate. I was an independent candidate for federal election and was gathering 1,500 signatures as part of the election process in a wheat state where independence was in short supply.
After the horrifying impact, I didn’t lose consciousness, and in the first moments after the accident, I took stock of my situation. I was strapped inside the car and, after the impact, trapped. Only my right arm could move. I fingered the gray felt visor above me. Raising my eyes, I peered into the vanity mirror. It provided a frightening sight. Rivulets of blood streamed all over my face.
In an instant, everything had come to a screeching halt. A local Kansas fellow (I found out later in a newspaper story that he was 29 years old) walked to my open driver’s window. He took a casual look at me, ignoring the blood and my many other injuries. I wasn’t angry with him. I didn’t reproach him. I just knew he wasn’t going to help me. I tried to stay calm. As I turned my face to look forward, I clung to the conviction that somehow my life was going to be saved.
The midnight horizon spread before me, and I saw ahead the lights of a truck that had stopped. An unknown figure appeared at a great distance and seemed to move toward me. Like a matchstick mounted at the highway’s edge, the apparition became a single line of light slowly advancing toward me. Was it possible that this vertical line of light separated from the clustered mass of truck lights in the distance was a truck driver coming to help me?
The form of a man took shape through the windshield. With a purposeful stride, he reached my car. He stuck his head inside my open window and saw the streaks of blood, now dried all over my face. “Madame,” he said to me forcefully, “I am going to get you help right away.” And so he did.
Soon the bright lights of an ambulance flooded the darkness. A wooden stretcher wrapped with red ropes was shoved inside along the dashboard of my car. Somehow my body was extricated from the seat, lifted out straight and bound upon the stretcher.
First, I was driven to the regional hospital in Hutchinson where I was brought into a series of well-lighted rooms. There was a huddle of doctors, medics, nurses. My head and neck were checked. Words were spoken that I could not understand.
Then the medics put me back into the ambulance for a journey of 43 miles east to the John Wesley Medical Center in Witchita. Dr. Harrison, chief general surgeon, assumed command. I lost all consciousness to time and place. Hours passed with no recollection of what had happened.
Worst of all, when I finally woke up, I found that I had lost all track of the trucker. Never did I thank him. Never did I tell him how he had saved my life.
I am writing this 16 months after the accident, and I am more determined than ever to find that trucker.
Elizabeth Frothingham, Ph.D., is a writer and fundraising professional currently living in Montpelier.
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Source: thebridge
I hope she finds him. I’m surprised the authorities don’t have his contact information.
The 29 year old didn’t call 911? Seems very odd to me, maybe the trucker called it in and they already knew about it, no traffic anywhere and got rear ended, where did the 29 year old come from? I would think the sound of a horrifying impact would travel far and wide on a calm still night. Its a straight flat 5 mile stretch east of Haven? Was it a hit and run? What happened to the other vehicle? Seems like so many things wrong with the story she would make a good politician.
Probbably didn’t stick around to talk to the fuzz because sometimes even when your being a good person they decide to ask for your log book and check your truck over before you can go…
I wish I was kidding about that.
I’ve stopped at several accident scenes through the years, and have never been harassed by an for doing so. They have always been most grateful toward me for taking the time to help someone and to assist them as I could once they arrived. I hope the lady finds the driver, and that she also remembers to thank the LEOs, the EMTs, and emergency room personnel. Saving lives is most often a team effort, in this case the driver was just the one to start things rolling.
LOL! So true! These State cops and DOT cops just love harrassing truckers.
Aint that the truth.plus everybodys sue happy…id of done the same thing. My.old carrier wud of punished me …sad but true!!
Not always true. I’m an OTR owner operator and hae stopped several times over the years to help at an accident scene. Each time I was thanked by the state troopers who showed up. Admittedly, some officers out there are assholes, but not all. I wish her luck finding the driver who helped her, and if she doesn’t , may she find some small comfort in carma. What comes around, goes around and he will surely be rewarded for his kindness.
Well, I don’t know what would have happened, but from my own experience the police have been very helpful. Twice they stopped traffic for me when I did a dummy and went down a bad road and had to back up into traffic to get out of it. They didn’t so much as ask me for my drivers license, so, they’re ok in my book.
If he wanted to be known, he would have stuck around. I understand the womans desire to thank him, however I doubt he will come forward. If I were in his situation I wouldn’t. I would read the letter, feel happy I was able to help someone, then send an anonymous letter to her confirming I read her letter but wished to remain anonymous.
I’ve had the cops help me out of bad situations as well.
One morning in Chicago (1978) I was sleeping waiting to unload, we had to wait for a crane, I heard someone hitting the side of the sleeper, not too loud, but enough to wake me up. I opened the window and there was a Chicago cop. “Are you any good and backing?” He asked. I told him I was fair, “Can you help us out?” “Yeah, let me get my shoes on.”
We got in his car and off we went. He told me on the way that a driver had gotten under the “EL” and had to back out about 500 feet, and they had been fooling with this guy for over 2 hours. He saw our trucks parked and thought he’d try to get a more experienced driver to help out.
I got in the cab and backed out with little problem. I tried to help the new guy by showing him how not to turn the steering wheel too much, (You know what I mean).
The cops took me out for breakfast, never asked for my logs, or even my license. I thought later how I could have just been a helper sleeping in there while the hand was out getting breakfast or something, LOL. I was thanked about 100 times. I never forgot how good the steak and eggs were.
Just North of Las Vegas I came upon a accident. One driver was already stopped and was trying to put out the fire with his extinguisher, I ran up with mine, but it was like trying to stop a battleship with a peashooter. In all we had 4 trucks stopped before the patrol and fire trucks got there. Again we were all thanked for trying to help, never any hassle. One patrolman even gave us his card and told us if we got any hassle about not having our extinguishers, that he would vouch for us if he could.
I know there are good cops and bad cops, and the bad ones ruin it for the good ones. But until I had to retire, I guess I had run into most of the good ones. The only jerks I ran into were at the weigh stations. Most were pretty new too.