Description of the accident, by Mark

The accident, to the best of my memory after about 10 hours of sleep.

We had passed mile marker 138...the last one I noticed before everything happened. We were climbing an incline..not a real steep one as earlier down the road, but a steady hill, so we were in the right lane, slowing down. The Wonderbus had a really great engine...carrying us over 4300 miles of some of the most incredible scenery and difficult roads I've ever driven on, but I don't like to push the engine unless necessary, so we were probably down to about 65 as we were climbing near the top of the rise. Lights were in my side mirror, as someone was overtaking us, not speeding, just going closer to the speedlimit of 75 mph. Suddenly there was a loud bang and thudding sound. I've heard it before on one of my tires (at a much slower speed) so I immediately knew "Blow out!!!". I was already holding the steering wheel with both hands, but I gripped harder, and then we were being blinded by bright lights coming from the left and a hard and horrendous crash hit just a few inches behind my shoulder, and we were being pushed hard and fast to the right.

I fought hard to push the vehicle back to the left, while also nearly standing on the brakes, but we were hitting the rumble strips on the shoulder of the road, and I could see dirt ahead. The back of the bus was swerving around to the right, so I turned hard to the right as well, hoping to straighten us out and recover, but we were in dirt by now, and the bus started to go over.

The sensation of a large vehicle falling over at high speed is the most terrifying feeling I have ever had...I think it will be the stuff of my nightmares for years to come. Complete and utter helplessness. All I could do was hold on to the steering wheeling as tightly as I could. I remember crying out, "Oh God, save us!" as we rolled completely over, and then again as we continued rolling, but nothing else do I remember saying. I was overwhelmed by the noise, and light, and dust...I could hear and sense that things were tumbling all around us in the bus.

The rolling and tumbling continued for what felt like an eternity. One's senses truly are more extended when going through a crisis...and what probably took less than 30 seconds felt like a three minute ride on the worse roller coaster in the world. We slid for what felt like the length of a football field, with dust billowing up and the noise of metal and fiberglass and glass smashing against the earth.

When we came to a stop, finally, I had no idea which was was up. I tried opening my door, but couldn't (it was on the ground). I could see that the windshield was cracked but fully intact. I took off my seatbelt and stood up, realizing as I did, that I was standing on the door. Up was towards the front door...I reached up, finding Ruthanne in her seat above me, hanging down. I asked her, "are you ok?" and when she said yes, my heart leapt for joy, but I also had the fleeting thought, "how am I going to be a widower and raise a daughter?" I couldn't open the front door, so I turned towards the back of the bus, remember the rear door and the emergency windows, and I saw Daniel at my feet. I saw that he was looking around, sitting all crumbled on the floor, which had once been the side of the bus. He said, "I can't find my glasses" and I said, "Forget about your glasses, get out of the bus!" I didn't say it outloud, but I was terrified the bus would catch on fire at any second. I started kicking at the windshield, but couldn't smash it.

Then I was overwhelmed with a fear for the three in the back of the bus, and I tried to get back to them. I couldn't. The bathroom had shifted and the door had fallen down into the seat across from where Daniel had been sitting (facing backwards). I finally tore away a portion of the door and could stick my head and shoulders through. An 18 wheeler (I realized, after I climbed out) had stopped and was shining its lights into the wreckage, and I could see that the back of the bus was empty. No one was inside. Then I heard Abby and Joanna beginning to cry out "Where's everyone else, we're all alone, what are we going to do?" and so I turned back to the front and kicked at the window with all my might, smashing a hole about 4 feet wide (or tall, as we were on our side). I could hear a woman outside yelling to someone "I've called 911, they're sending ambulances" and a man helped Ruthanne out the window.

After I saw that Abby and Joanna were being comforted by a woman at the side of the road, and that a truck was blocking traffic so that we were not in danger of being struck by another vehicle, and that Daniel and Ruthanne were making their way over to the girls, I turned and saw a man kneeling by a body in the debris field...wreckage was everywhere, and Debbie was lying there in the stubbly grass, about 20 feet from the bus (20 feet back towards where we had first left the road) and less than 20 feet from the roadway. She was moving slightly, and I saw her eyes were open, but her head was covered in blood and she was saying over and over "my head hurts so bad...how are the kids? My head hurts so bad...are the kids alright." The man was amazing...he knelt by Debbie's side for over a half hour, keeping her from moving, assuring her that help was coming, and keeping other people from moving her. He probably saved her life, or at least her ability to move from her neck down. One of two ladies who had been with the man in the U-haul they were in (one the man's wife, the other his sister-in-law) were with our kids, saying over and over, "I'm certified in CPR. If your mom was dying, I'd be over there, working on her, and I'd have to work on her until a paramedic came, but I'm not working on her, so your mom is not dying. She's going to be alright." This comforted Abby, especially, who had started to fall apart right after finding out we were all out of the wreck. All of the kids were incredible!!! Calming down, taking advice from those who were helping, and trusting that they were going to be ok. I have never been more proud of my family or more convinced of God's providence than I am now.