After hiking from Hwy 50 to Hwy 49 on the Tahoe Yosemite Trail sometime in
the 70s (!!!?) my friend and I began to hitch from near Lake Alpine on our
long journey back to Skylonda in the hills behind Woodside.  We didn't
stand around long when a guy in a white Westfalia stopped to give us a
ride.  Apparently he'd just bought the thing in Markleevlle, or some small
town on the east side of the Sierra, and was driving it home to Angels
Camp.

We were cruising along about 50 mph or so when a doe leapt in front of us
and darted across the road.  She was about 100' or so ahead.  The driver
noticed a six-point buck standing by the side of the road and began to
slow down, but not enough.  The buck leapt onto the road and we slammed
into him going about 30 or 35 mph or so.  He bounced to the side of the
road and we went into a horrorific skid.  It was all the driver could do
to stay on the road.

When we hit the buck the nose collapsed into the emergency brake and
engaged it "to the max".  The guy was nearly in tears, his immaculate and
new bus crashed in the first hour he owned it.  We kicked out the nose,
disengaged the brake, and drove away.  He was very bitter when he dropped
us off, saying he never should have picked us up.  WE felt for him, but
hey, what could we do?

Jeffrey Olson
Seattle, Washington, where spring is finally arriving...