I did not know the time was running so short when I could speak to him and give him a word of comfort. I was not conscious of the dangers ahead when I heard the last words Harold ever uttered, "There comes a train."
        I think Harold, also, was so deep in thought that he was hardly able to be his former self. He had always been such a good driver that I had never worried if by his side.
        At that time, I am sure he could have passed ahead of the train without trouble. It was so sudden, he was confused. He did not want to take any chances, but did not think of the heavy weight in the back of our truck, which tipped the truck as he stepped on the brake, which grabbed as he turned the front wheels.
        As I could tell our truck was tipping over, it appeared to me as if we were going to both be crushed under the wheels, when the big locomotive reached us. My only thoughts were: This will be terrible news to our loved ones when they learn we have both been killed.
        Harold had turned the truck far enough to the left that the train caught the backend of the truck first, but the bed of the truck was built so strong that it did not tear loose from the truck and as the different cars passed by and grabbed the projecting bed frame, the front of the truck was swung towards the train until the front of our truck was struck a terrible blow which broke Harold’s back and neck.
        I think I felt every jar that our car received, but I knew nothing after the terrible blow from the front until I found myself lying out on the ground. The train had stopped after about seven cars had passed us.
        When I gained consciousness and could remember what had happened, I arose and went in search of Harold. He was still gasping when I went to him, still behind the steering wheel. There was a crowd there. I called for help and we hurried him to a doctor’s office.
        When the doctor told us Harold was gone, the pains immediately struck me in the back and I had to gasp for my breath. The pain was so severe I could hardly stand it. It seemed to me so strange that I could stand to help carry Harold, and then just to hear the words, "He is gone", I would be so affected with pain. My son Ralph soon appeared on the scene at the railroad crossing.
        I instructed that Joseph Olpin, at Heber, should be notified and to come and take care of Harold’s body. I was then taken to my brother Ralph’s home in Provo.
        Dr. Stan Clark examined me and found that one or two ribs next to my back bone were splintered or broken.
        Oh, how I prayed and how wonderfully did the Lord bless me so that I was able to attend Harold’s funeral.

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