Testimony from Rick Floyd

Chapter 1, "Stranded But Not Forgotten" is on this page.

Jump to Chapter 2 "Where Are You?"

Jump to Chapter 3 "Be Still and Know"

Rick has a longer book, titled Gerald Preach online at http://www.booklocker.com/bookpages/rfloyd.html

"STRANDED-

BUT NOT FORGOTTEN"

I could remember the day I arrived on the plane from Los Angeles. My thoughts were full of a great sense of relief. The experience in L.A. had been a bad one and I had hoped that I was coming to a better one in Denver. There was a job waiting for me and the promise of decent pay. I had wanted to leave everything behind. Starting over again had become a well-practiced science for me and Denver appeared to be the only open door. I remember those kinds of thoughts very well as I had been through that same scenario time and time again.

The atmosphere of the Rocky Mountains was a new one for me. I enjoyed my occasional drives up into the mountains to get away from the city. The pine trees and rugged scenery were breath taking. Lofty mountain peaks would ascend on both sides of the narrow country roads. As beautiful as it all was, I knew that with the first threat of snow it would no longer seem the paradise that summer had offered. I vowed that with the first white flakes I would pack my bags and leave.

I was sitting in the family room watching television one night when the phone rang. It was my youngest sister calling from Kansas City. She was hoping to convince me to visit her. It was her compelling tone of urgency that made me say yes. I explained that it would take me a couple of days to arrange my affairs but I would see her soon. As I hung up the phone, I noticed through the patio door that it was beginning to snow.

The used car that I had recently bought still needed some maintenance before I could leave. Quite a few of my hard earned dollars had already transformed it into what I hoped was a road worthy vehicle. I couldn’t leave for the long drive across Kansas until I was sure that I would have no delays or breakdowns along the way.

Finally, I was ready to leave. My friend, who had gotten me my job, tried to convince me that I should return. When I told him that I had quit, he was very disappointed for me, but he couldn’t change my mind. It had snowed and I was leaving. I awoke the next morning at six o’clock. It had snowed two inches overnight and I was convinced that the timing was right to make my exit.

It was a cold November morning with the wind howling out of the northwest as I set out on Interstate 70. I was cruising along at seventy miles an hour and all seemed well. There were few cars to clutter my path as I quickly crossed the state line into Kansas. The storm was behind me and the roads were finally clear. Driving in snow was not a new experience for me. Having been raised in Kansas City, I had learned the art of being careful and discriminating against the hazards of slick streets. While I didn’t consider myself a risk taker, I also didn’t consider myself inept in my driving skills.

Only three hours into my drive the car began to sputter a little bit. I slowed down to examine the symptoms but I was unable to determine what the problem was. It seemed that it would be okay to continue as long as I didn’t press it too hard. After a while, the car regained my confidence and I figured that I would reach my goal. I nursed it along, keeping ever wary of any symptoms.

The long drive across Kansas gives a person a lot of time to think. I reflected back on the turmoil of my life. It was hard to believe that so much had gone wrong. Starting over had become a way of life for me and I was sure I could write a "how-to" book on the subject.

Here I was, leaving Denver without any intention of returning and not really sure of any future direction. The job I had left had turned out to be dangerous to my health and I was not interested in making it a career. Working in a chemical factory was not going to be my life long pursuit. There was no promise of work for me where I was going and I didn’t have any concrete plans of where I might settle next. My inner restlessness urged me on. A few right decisions would be welcomed friends for me if I could find them. It occurred to me, after talking on the phone with my sister, that a visit might somehow spur my next move. At least I hoped it might initiate some thoughts in the right direction.

The urgency in my sister’s voice haunted my thoughts. I was concerned that there might be something wrong that she couldn’t talk about over the phone. She was still living with our mother and the possibilities existed of deep need on their part that I was not aware. How I could help was a mystery, but it was a second good excuse to leave Denver with the first snow.

The car managed to survive the trip although there were a few times I thought I might get stranded. I spent a nice time with my mother and sister, but my restlessness begged me to make some plans. Knowing that I couldn’t get anywhere in a crippled car, I took it to a mechanic for diagnosis. The sad news was that I needed a new carburetor. That meant big bucks that I had not planned on spending. I wrestled with the problem until my mother offered to lend me the money to fix it. Knowing that she was not rich, I was reluctant to accept, but I saw no other choice. The car was fixed but I was left with little money my next expenses. What to do?

The next several days were plagued with indecision. I considered many different possibilities but none seemed right under the circumstances, so my perplexity grew. Finally, I decided to call my friend in Denver to see if I could get my job back. Being my foreman at work, he said yes I could come back and that he had hoped that I would stay put for a while. I had just enough money for gas. The thought of returning to Denver was not my first choice, but I figured I could work there long enough to grubstake my next move.

I said good-byes to my mother and sister. They were vigorous in disagreement about my leaving. Another snow storm had settled onto the plains and driving Interstate 70 was hazardous. In my stubbornness, I was determined to go anyway. The weather was cold and gray. The clouds hung so heavy that it seemed I could reach them with a little effort. Reports on the radio said that there was freezing rain mixed with snow going west on the interstate. They warned against unnecessary travel but I deemed my return to Denver to be essential. I would not be delayed by a little snow. So I left.

The car seemed to be running okay. The traffic was light and I was optimistic that I could make the twelve hour drive without a problem. I did pass through a few brief periods of freezing rain, but the roads were fine in the early part of my trek. Just past Topeka, I encountered sleet and snow mixed but it was not yet sticking to the pavement. I pressed on. Being the experienced driver that I was, I didn’t perceive myself in any grave risk.

After about two and a half hours of driving, it started. The car was sputtering again. My anger swelled against the mechanic who had taken precious money from someone so much in need of it as my mother and me. I drove on with an intensity in my efforts to convince my car it could make it. My body filled with tension as the sputtering increased. Just as I was approaching the Russell, Kansas turnoff, the car died on me. I coasted to a stop on the exit ramp. The snow was now at least four inches deep and it was coming down at a much quicker rate. There was absolute silence as I sat there in that dead car. There was no one in view that I might ask for help and I could see a sign that said Russell, Kansas was one mile to the north. With my thoughts racing, I tried the key. The engine turned over and it seemed like it wanted to cooperate but wouldn’t.

I sat there for almost fifteen minutes hoping someone would drive by and rescue me. It was getting cold inside the car and the fog on the windows was beginning to freeze. I got out of the car to look around. It was about five o’clock and it was getting darker as the snow got heavier. There were some lights off in the distance and I dreaded the thought of having to walk to them. I climbed back into the car and tried the key once more. It groaned and coughed. I tried again, cursing at it, hoping somehow that it might make a difference. It started. The engine caught and I revved the engine to keep it running. Letting out on the clutch, it lurched forward. I didn’t even stop at the stop sign and plowed ahead toward the distant lights that whispered the possibility of help.

I raced the engine at top RPM’s to keep it from stalling again. I could see a dark cloud of exhaust through my rear window as I made forward progress. As I neared the lights, I was able to see a red neon sign that read "Bus Station." I pulled into the parking lot and the car died, coasting a short distance to a silent stop. That was it. It would not restart no matter how hard I cursed it.

I was cold, frustrated, and stuck in a town where I knew no one. With only enough money for gas when I had set out, I knew that it was futile to look for a mechanic. The bus station looked warm and inviting so I raced to the door. There were few people inside and they didn’t even notice my arrival. The phone next to the coffee machine was unoccupied. I started to approach it, but then I hesitated to use it. I sat down in a chair next to the men’s room as I started to chew on my predicament. The cashier was busy with her work and seemed unaware of any others in the room. There was a bulletin board with bus arrivals and departures posted for the day. The bus for Denver had left two hours earlier and there wouldn’t be another one until morning. There was one for Kansas City at ten o’clock. My hand in my pocket reminded me that I couldn’t afford a ticket. I sat there for more than an hour with my thoughts struggling against each other.

Finally, I decided I had no recourse. I called my mother and she consented to go to the downtown Kansas City bus terminal and by me a return ticket. As I thought back on that decision, I’m not sure why I didn’t go on to Denver. Either direction would be a long bus trip, as we would stop at every little burg along the way. There were some kids in the seat behind me that couldn’t sleep and some adults who snored loudly in front of me. My patience had worn thin by the time we arrived in Kansas City mid morning.

Again, I was faced with the need to reevaluate my next move. What was I going to do next or, more precisely, what could I do next? There I was broke, with a car stranded in the middle of Kansas, and maybe five dollars in my pocket. Being fed up with my car, I called its former owner and told her she could have it back even after all the money I’d put into it. I didn’t want to ever see it again. I had rescued one suitcase and some hanging clothes before leaving it in that snow storm. It was a necessary loss.

For days I didn’t sleep very well. My thoughts raced through various scenarios. There was a swelling desire inside me to go back to Phoenix where I had lived a year earlier. The more I thought about it the more any other alternatives paled in comparison. The feeling grew into a compulsion that pulled at me like a magnet. When I had left Phoenix, I had no intention of returning, but now I couldn’t seem to get it out of my mind. I hadn’t a clue how I would get there. I called my former boss in Phoenix. He offered me my old job back but he was unwilling to lend me the money to get there. He gave me a week to claim it or the job would go to someone else.

The following Sunday morning I woke up very early. Laying there in bed, I was still trying to think of a way to get to Phoenix. If it had been summer time, I might have considered hitch hiking. Getting a ride with a trucker was another thought, but I was not so enterprising that I would have actually pursued either course. Then it hit me. I remembered some years earlier having read an ad in the paper. They were looking for people to drive vehicles to the West Coast. I raced downstairs to get the Sunday paper and leafed through to the personals section. Sure enough, I found it. Only one ad and it was for driving a van to Mesa, Arizona. It was my lucky day! Either the stars were shining down on me or my invisible rabbit’s foot was working. I called the number and talked to the owner of a car lot. Yes, he still wanted someone, but I had to give him references that he could verify before agreeing to accept me and it would be on a first-come-first-serve basis with other applicants.

It took him about four hours before he finally called back and said that I was okay. At three o’clock, I went over to pick up a brand new Dodge Conversion van they pulled up in front of the dealer’s door. I’d be riding in style. He gave me sixty dollars for gas allowance and said that I should have a little left over for myself. Was life finally giving me a break? I was convinced that returning to Phoenix was my destiny.

That evening, I checked road maps and weather information. I calculated the miles against the van’s probable gas mileage and was satisfied that I should have about ten dollars left over for myself. I figured I could sleep in the van along the way and take a nice leisurely trip of three days and be just in time to get to work.

At six A.M. the next morning, I loaded up my few belongings along with a pillow and two Afghans. I checked the weather report one more time. They said sunny skies and middle sixties with lite breezes out of the west. My mother and sister wished me well and off I went on a December sixth. I was feeling very cheerful for the first time in three weeks. I headed south on Interstate 35 toward Wichita with my windows down and a smile on my face. I was back in control of my destiny once again. Ahead were twelve hundred miles and some time to relax at the wheel without any cares to weigh me down. I was only thirty years old, yet I felt as if I’d lived a lifetime.

For many years, I had held a hope in my heart to move somewhere warm. When I was twenty-seven, I finally made the move. I had been offered a job that I was now returning to. I had learned to love the Arizona landscape because of its diversity and beauty, not to mention it hardly ever snowed in Phoenix. That was for me. After failing at marriage and so many other endeavors, I was looking for my niche in life. I knew that something good somewhere was waiting for me and I was anxious to have it. I figured it was my turn in life.

I was pulled from my thoughts by something I noticed far off in the distance. I was about an hour north of Wichita when I saw dark blue clouds on the western horizon. At this time of year, I knew what that could mean. I turned on the radio and found a local station. I didn’t have to wait very long before hearing the weather report. A surprise winter storm was moving rapidly out of the Rockies into southern Kansas and northern New Mexico. The forecaster said the storm had freezing rain moving out in front of it with the potential for heavy snows and blizzard-type winds behind.

My cheerfulness took a back seat to a growing concern. I’d lived in the Midwest too long to ignore this warning. I’d be driving right into the teeth of the storm and from the look of the clouds it would be sooner than later. I was fifty miles from Wichita. I’d come too far to turn back and at the same time it didn’t appear wise to go forward. My brain started analyzing my situation as rapidly as possible. If I returned to Kansas City, there was no guarantee if, or even how soon, I might be able to drive west again. I had to get to Phoenix by Thursday so I couldn’t waste any time in either direction. I didn’t have enough money so that I could stay in a motel room while waiting for the storm to pass or for the roads to be cleared. I instinctively knew that driving on slippery roads would chew up my gas mileage at a faster rate than I could afford.

The compulsion to get to Phoenix was the stronger consideration, so I forged ahead. This of course was the more dangerous choice. The van didn’t have snow tires or any chains. It was very light in the rear end so traction on slippery roads would be critical. I was quite surprised at my decision to continue my trek, yet I had to keep going. It was as if the decision had already been made for me and all that was left for me to do was follow through with the plan. With much trepidation, I forged ahead.

At Wichita’s city limits, I encountered the first drops of freezing rain. The temperature had dropped twenty-five degrees in just one hour. I was very fortunate that the streets were still warm and the rain wasn’t freezing to the surface yet, but it was sticking to the outside of the van. My windows were glazing over and making it difficult to see the other vehicles unless they had their lights on. I could only hope that the freezing rain would change to snow quickly.

The drive through Wichita was uneventful but very slow. Traffic was terrible and it was costing me precious gas mileage. I knew my goal was in jeopardy. If traffic conditions didn’t improve soon, I could get stranded. Having passed countless vehicles already abandoned along the roadway, I knew that I was traveling on borrowed luck. On many occasions, I counted as many as six tractor-trailer rigs pulled off the side of the road waiting for the storm’s passing. This was not a small storm.

Ten miles on the west side of Wichita, it was almost void of any travelers. I was feeling very alone and vulnerable. I had driven in bad weather before but this was by far the worst. The van was doing well to make twenty miles an hour without major slippage. The freezing rain became very heavy and it was all that my windshield defroster could do to keep even the smallest opening for viewing. The wind was very brisk at what I estimated to be thirty-mile-an-hour gusts. There were several times that I was afraid that I’d be blown off the road.

For the first time in my life, I found myself praying to the unseen God of which I hadn’t believed existed. I even heard myself say out loud, "If there really is a God in heaven, please get me through this, or I will get stranded and freeze to death."

I had never been a believer. Each bad incident in my life had reduced my ability to believe in spiritual beings. I had even lived through Vietnam without ever once praying for help. Nevertheless, I was praying now, "If there is a God, I need your help. . . .now!"

The radio announcer was giving frequent updates on road and weather conditions. At this point, they were forecasting ten inches of drifting snow for southwest Kansas, western Oklahoma panhandle, and northern New Mexico. Travelers were being warned to stay home and to avoid Interstate 40 through New Mexico. He added that the road behind me was all but closed because of the freezing rain and they hoped that all drivers would get off the road. Was he talking to me? I’m the one with such a strong compulsion to get to Phoenix. I’m the one who was so restless that I couldn’t listen to good advice. Even though things were very bad, I knew I had to keep going. So, I did.

The freezing rain continued all the way to Tucumcari, New Mexico. I had averaged twenty miles per hour all the way from Wichita. It was eleven o’clock at night and I was exhausted from the intensity of my situation and the lack of sleep the night before. My exhaustion forced me to pull into a truck stop. Their whole parking lot was full of truckers who were exercising wisdom. The lady at the cash register consented to let me park in their lot while I tried to get some sleep. She gave me a free cup of hot chocolate to warm me. The light jacket I was wearing let me chill to the bone the short distance back to the van. There wasn’t enough money in my budget to eat. Not one penny could be wasted on anything except gas.

My effort to lie down and sleep in the van was futile. Without the engine running the heater, it was too cold even with two Afghans on top of me. The van wasn’t insulated so it was just as cold inside as it was outside. For the next two-and-a-half hours I tried to sleep, but my shivering wouldn’t let me relax. Since the only way I could keep warm was to run the engine, I decided I might as well be putting miles behind me at the same time. I set out once again on the lonely highway.

Just west of Tucumcari, the freezing rain changed to snow. It was coming down so hard that it was difficult to see a satisfactory distance. My vision was so diminished that I couldn’t distinguish the road from the ditch. The few other vehicles I encountered were headed east. We couldn’t be of much assistance to each other going in different directions.

Tired and weary beyond description, I drove across what appeared to be a North Pole landscape. I was feeling very alone and overwhelmed. Again I prayed, "If there is a God in heaven, please get me through this mess alive." That was my second prayer.

Rolling down the windows and playing the radio as loud as I could stand, it was the only way I could stay awake. My feet were hot and my ears were freezing, but I was making forward progress. I had mentally counted my money and calculated the miles left to Phoenix. I figured I still had an outside chance to reach my goal. That was, if I could finally get out of that storm. The longer it lasted the more my chances seemed to diminish.

It was about seven A.M., when I drove down the 6% downgrade into Albuquerque. The snowfall stopped abruptly as I went through the last pass into the city. I found the roadway clear and the sun was shining. My sigh of relief could not be muted and I was jubilant that I had made it without getting stranded.

My tank was on empty so I found a gas station. I had to force the driver side door open by breaking the seal of ice that held it closed. Scraping the ice from the windows took a half an hour. Checking the radio for the current updated weather didn’t improve my outlook. There was another storm entering northern Arizona and Interstate 40 was closed going west from Gallup, New Mexico. The Highway Patrol wasn’t letting anyone pass without chains or snow tires and they were trying hard to discourage all travelers. I had neither chains nor snow tires. I desperately needed an alternative. The map showed that I could go south and catch Interstate 10, but it was too far south and I wouldn’t have enough gas for the extra mileage. I opted to go south to 360 Highway that went west through central Arizona. Being unfamiliar with that area, I would soon discover the surprise that was waiting for me.

Everything was going well after leaving Albuquerque. The air was cold, but the sun felt warm shining in through the large windshield. My tension had lessened even though I still had a nagging awareness of the storm racing into Arizona’s northern plateau. I just hoped that somehow I could get ahead of it and make it to Phoenix before it caught with me.

Eastern Arizona was a beautiful area filled with meadows, trees, and occasional farms. The scenery was the epitome of Fall’s grandeur in bloom. Even this late in the year there was still some color left in the trees. I encountered few other drivers and was enjoying the solitude to its fullest.

The tall trees had obscured my vision along my way until I came into a very wide meadow allowing me my first glimpse. It was about twenty miles east of Springerville, Arizona that I noticed the distant clouds beginning to rush my direction. The clouds were dark and ominous as the snow started falling again. I stopped for gas at the local quick store only to be told by the attendant the weather reports going West were very bad. Again I was being told not to proceed at the risk of being stranded. Heavy snow and blowing winds already had much of the roadway covered in deep snow.

I climbed into the van and sat in silence for a few moments. The money in my pocket was almost gone. I had no choice. I had to keep going so I headed west once again not sure what fate had waited for me.

I had driven for about twenty minutes as I ascended a short upgrade, around a curve, and down into a valley area. As I crested the hill, I could see the snow falling with a vengeance. The road was lost in white as I struggled against the wind to stay on the narrow two lane blacktop. Another ten minutes and the snow was already three inches deep. There were no signs of anyone else having driven this way. It was evident that the farther west I would go, the worse it would get.

My confidence was again shaken and I didn’t know if I had the strength to continue fighting against the odds. I learned later that I was passing through the area of the White Mountains. Their altitude was eleven thousand feet so the roadway was somewhere around six to seven thousand feet. I was in an angry cloud that was trying to swallow me whole. I was all alone with my thoughts and fears.

The amazing thing was that it was all so pretty. There was a bright, white glistening carpet everywhere to be seen. Even though the sky was a heavy overcast grey, the snow still sparkled and winked its invitation at me. It was almost as if it were trying to tell me it was sorry for my predicament. By contrast, the pine trees wore their winter coat, pulling their limbs and forcing them humbly to bow to the earth. It was both beautiful and breath taking at the same time. How could it be so life-threatening also? Even though it was mid afternoon, it was almost dark. I’d driven one hundred miles without seeing a soul. I was so tired that my arms ached from strangling the steering wheel. I passed one car with an U-haul trailer behind it. It was apparent that they had run off the road, but there was not a soul in sight. Where could they be? I didn’t know.

The fact that I was still making forward progress was amazing. It was my guess that the snow was at least twelve inches deep. The wind was sculpting drifts across the road in various places where it could squeeze between the tall pines. I had lost track of the miles and time had turned into a big white blur. I was almost mesmerized by the gas gauge as I watched the fuel level slowly descend.

I finally reached Show Low, Arizona. The clerk at a convenience store said that the worst of the storm should be over soon and passing on to the south. However, my biggest problem was that she didn’t expect that the snow plows would clear the way very quickly. She found it incredulous that I was driving in from Kansas City through one of the worst storms in recent history. I couldn’t help but agree with her.

The map showed that the road would turn south and descend in elevation. I figured that had to be a good thing, so I trudged ahead slowly. I had never driven through that area called the Salt River Canyon. It was a 7% downgrade hugging the canyon wall from five thousand feet down to one thousand feet ten miles later. My first thoughts that the road conditions had to improve were very wrong. The warning sign about falling rocks was the least of my worries. Patches of ice and packed snow awaited me. On the other side of the roadside railing was a five hundred to seven hundred foot drop off into a cold icy river. I was the only person in sight. If I were to lose control and drive over the edge, no one would find me for quite some time.

I tried to drive the van in a lower gear hoping to control my speed, however, the slick surface overruled my efforts. Each patch of ice hurried my speed and then the dry spots would jerk the van back into control. This played havoc with my nerves until my strength almost left me. My hands hurt as I choked the steering wheel with all my might. Each curve wanted to take me a different direction than I could sanction. Too many times, I almost sideswiped the guard rail with my gaze frozen on the steep decline to the river below. Exhaustion was winning. I wanted to stop the truck and just walk away from the whole mess. I sent up another hurried and desperate plea for help.

Twelve miles and several heavy sighs later, I reached the bottom of the canyon. I had survived. I was amazed beyond words. I had been in many bad situations in my life, but this trip proved to be my most harrowing experience. I had survived freezing rain, deep blowing snow, and a downhill raceway on ice.

Once again, I had finally made it into the warming sunlight. I knew that the worst was behind me, but I still had a long way to go. The gas I bought in Show Low would have to get me to Phoenix.

I was incredibly tired as I drove along. I was able to see in my side mirrors that people were looking at me in strange ways. Some kids in one car were pointing at me with amazement. I didn’t figure out why until I pulled up in front of my friend’s house. I got out and walked around the van when I noticed that the passenger side was covered with two inches of solid ice and matted snow just beginning to melt and drop off into the streets. Some of the neighborhood kids came running over to pick up pieces to carry home.

My friend, Gary, came running out shouting how much he’d been worried and that he had called the Highway Patrol to have them look for me. My mother, back in Kansas City, had been calling, hoping for any word on my safety. All I wanted to do was go to bed and sleep and I would tell my story later.

The next day, I delivered the van to the car dealer in Mesa, Arizona. Both he and the car dealer in Kansas City had been very worried that I’d been stranded and lost. After handing him the keys, I pulled out the remaining change in my pocket from my sixty-dollar gas allowance. I had sixty-five cents left. He smiled and said, "Keep it and you’ll have a great story to tell your grandchildren someday."

Now I have to tell you the sad part of this story, After having survived such a treacherous trip, I received all the praise to myself for my driving skills. I didn’t tell anyone that I had prayed, not once, but four times, for mercy to get me through. I was too prideful to give the unseen God any praise for having answered my desperate pleas for deliverance. I was to forget about my cries for help for another year. In that sense, I was indeed stranded just as if I had actually been lost in the middle of nowhere in the worst snow storm in many years. My "stranded condition" of "self reliance" again took control of my life, but I was not to be forgotten by the loving God who was pursuing my heart.

I give God full credit for delivering me from that near death experience. I now understand why my plans to return to Denver were thwarted and why I had such a strong compulsion to drive to Phoenix. I was to have a close encounter with the God who loves me. He was to establish my first testimony that He does answer the desperate plea for help. I learned that He not only answers prayer, but He is with us every step of the way. Even before we know Him, He is working for our salvation. Just as He had led Abraham into the desert, God was leading me out into my snowy wilderness so that we might finally get to know each other. In September of 1980 I was baptized. He is able to deliver to the uttermost!!!

Jump to Chapter 2 "Where Are You?"

Jump to Chapter 3 "Be Still and Know"