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Hit and Run: Run-In's W/ Alaskan MooseDec 03 '00 Write an essay on this topic.Cars vs. SUV's In Alaska, there's no contest. No, not even a need for a recount. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, here are the facts. Two large river valleys are carved into the wilderness near Anchorage -- Alaska's largest city containing over half of the state's population. One is called the Matanuska River, the other the Susitina River; and the area around is called the "Mat-Su Borough". Posted on the highways in several places in this region are signs that read "Watch out for Moose: Total killed this winter _________" Last winter hundreds of moose were killed by collisions with vehicles along the highways in and around the Mat-Su Borough. With the possibility of a 2,000 pound moose lurking around every icy corner and over every hill, it's no wonder that the majority of Alaskan vehicles are SUV's. For me, running into a moose is more than a possibility -- it has been a reality. Not once, but twice. I'd like to recount both instances, neither of which was I a driver. My dad had a car load of people in our 1990 suburban that frigid winter night. I believe we had at least the capacity of nine if not more. I was in the front in the middle (the suicide seat), my parents flanked me on either side. We were traveling home from a friend's house -- about an hour's drive away. Driving up a particularly icy (and notoriously Moosey) hill, I was startled by a moose that suddenly leaped from the left side of the road and began running along the road in the same direction as we were travelling. My dad applied the brakes carefully and was going around thirty miles per hour when the moose decided that he needed to cross the road -- in front of us. A tremendous THUMP reverberated through our suburban amid several unearthly screams from our stout-hearted womenfolk. I clearly remember wondering if the moose was going to land in my lap or whether the buckling hood would hold it. Fortunately, it did; and after "carrying" our new hood decoration for over one hundred feet, we deposited it in the ditch -- along with a goodly amount of our radiator fluid, grill, and various other valuables. Valuables that our local body shop wanted over three grand to replace. But folks, I shudder to think of retelling this story having been in a car on that cold Alaskan night. The second instance of a run-in with a moose happened during another Alaskan winter night with the temperature at a frightening 35 BELOW zero. A pastor was driving a car-load of us kids back from a youth camp when we encountered a mother moose and her calf in the road. The mother was able to gain her footing and get out of the way, but the calf was not so fortunate on that nasty ice. We hit it dead on, and killed it instantly. In the suburban we were in, there was only a little damage. But had we been in a car on that seldom travelled road that night, we easily could have been thrown from the road. As an officer in the local fire department, I have responded to several accidents between moose and small vehicles. For some strange reason the two never seem to get along too well. One in particular that stands out in my memory happened about a quarter of a mile from where I live. A man in a small Datsun pickup had been driving along when I moose actually tried to jump over his vehicle. The moose broke it's back, and the local Fish and Wildlife Trooper had to dispatch it. The truck didn't fare quite that badly, but it wasn't a pretty site. One final anecdote in the problems between moose and cars in Alaska: I have a friend that lives four hours North who sustained very serious neck damage when he hit a moose. When the snow cleared, the large moose ended up ON TOP of the man's little Honda. He later said that he was lucky to be alive. Why all the stories? There is one simple fact that cannot be ignored. SUV's are heavier and sturdier than cars. Period. If you knew you were going to run into the Exxon Valdez B.S. (Before Spill), you'd more than likely want to be in a Navy destroyer going 20 knots rather than a canoe going twenty knots. Of course, it's doubtful you could get a canoe going at twenty knots, but that's beside the point. In Alaska, we drive a lot of miles. If I want to go to Wal-Mart or my local Costco, I have to drive 245 miles to get there. If there were anywhere that fuel economy were important, it would be here. Our mountain roads are attrocious in places; if there were anywhere that handling would be paramount, it should be here. But most people drive Suburbans, full-size pick-ups, Jeeps, Expeditions, et cetera. Why? Because the importance of safety outweighs all other factors. Postscript: A close friend of mine nearly died a few days ago. She was driving a Subaru Legacy when she spun out on a treacherous curve that was well coated with black ice covered with a thin layer of snow. Instead of a fatal parachute-less launch of well over 200 feet down a ravine, she was saved by a brand new guard rail that partially broke, but held. When her father went to rescue her in his suburban, he tried to slide on the curve himself -- testing the ice. He could not get the suburban to spin out. The difference in weight makes all the difference in the world; for a few lucky Alaskans, the benefits are out of this world....  |
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