A Most Inconvenient Meeting on Geiger Grade
There are few things more democratic than a Nevada highway at five o’clock in the morning. Rich man, poor man, sober man, intoxicated man—all are permitted to occupy the same strip of pavement, provided they can persuade their automobiles to remain on their own side of it. Geiger Grade Road, however, has never been especially enthusiastic about democracy, being a winding mountain road with cliffs, curves, and just enough gravity to make a mistake considerably more memorable.
At about five in the morning on August 11, the Nevada Highway Patrol was summoned to the four-mile marker near King Lane, where two vehicles had managed to conduct a partial head-on collision on State Route 341. It is not the sort of meeting motorists generally arrange in advance, and judging from the consequences, neither party had purchased tickets for it.
Three people were transported to local hospitals. One was carried away by air ambulance with critical injuries, while two others went by ground ambulance, one suffering serious injuries and the other injuries described as non-life-threatening. Thus, before breakfast, the mountain had already collected its morning offering to the gods of poor judgment and bad luck.
The highway was closed in both directions while investigators went about the solemn business of determining how two automobiles came to occupy substantially the same piece of road at substantially the same time.
There is also the small matter of impairment, which authorities suspect may have played a part in the affair. This is an interesting habit of civilization: We build roads, paint lines upon them, erect signs, establish speed limits, distribute licenses, and teach people that a steering wheel is not a carnival ride, only to discover periodically that somebody has decided sobriety is an optional feature.
Geiger Grade itself requires a certain respect. It twists and turns through the mountains with the confidence of a place that knows perfectly well that it was here before automobiles and will probably remain here after we have invented something even more foolish than automobiles. The road does not care whether you are late for work, late for home, or merely late in realizing that you are driving somewhere you ought not to be.
By sunrise, the emergency crews had done their work, the injured had been taken for medical treatment, and the highway patrol was left to reconstruct the unfortunate mess. Somewhere, no doubt, a commuter was staring at the barricades and wondering why the government could not simply move the mountain for him.
But mountains are stubborn things. They have survived prospectors, politicians, tourists, developers and motorists, and they possess the distinct advantage of not requiring a driver's license. On Geiger Grade, the mountain remains undefeated—and on this particular morning, it had once again demonstrated that the highway is a privilege, not a suggestion.
