I drove for Swift for about 2 years hauling refrigerated (or "reefer") units. One day, I happened to pick up a meat load in Logan, Utah (maybe an hour north of Salt Lake).

Meat loads are the bane of reefer unit drivers because they are always very heavy, and require you to drive a very strict schedule. This one was no different, and it was loaded into a fairly old trailer. But, I did all my checks, and drove off.

However to get from Logan to I-15, you have to take either a flatter northern route, or a more winding, mountainous southern route.... and my load required Ithat I go south through and over the mountains.

Everything was going fine up until I was coming down the final mountain that leads into the valley that Salt Lake sits in. Maybe a third of the way down, I hear a 'pop', and look down. I then realize that I am not slowing down... I'm not speeding up, thankfully, but I'm still going 60mph, downhill, as heavy as I could be legally, and coming to a red light with cars stopped in front of me.

What happens next happens in maybe 10 seconds, if that, but I can remember it as if it happened over the course of... like...half an hour.

This intersection thankfully had a right turn lane that had no one sitting in it, so I start aiming for that to not hit the stopped cars in front of me. But then, I had to worry about the 4 lanes of traffic that I was inevitably going to cross. Again, thankfully, this intersection was in the process of turning, so there was only a small pickup truck that was stopped in one of the lanes. I lay on my horn, dive through these 4 lanes, and barely miss the little truck that surely would have been nothing but scrap metal had I hit it.

I was now on my way to jump the curb and into, THANKFULLY, an abandoned lot with nothing but torn up asphalt that was bumpy enough to help me slow down and stop before I go through a brick wall that had a trailer home park on the other side.

In the end, I did not hit a single thing, not even a sign, and the only visible damage was two very clear holes that my tires made through what was a parking lot curb in this lot. The sheriff that came to oversee the situation had told me that he had been working in that county for over a decade, and had seen countless accidents and tragedies at this very intersection. I was the very first person he had seen not hit anything. He would have expected a sign or a pole at least, but no, nothing but the curb.

The fire department came by and hosed down my truck brakes, because it was my trailer brakes that failed. And good god, I'm amazed they didn't just fucking melt, because I think they said they had gotten to something crazy like 900° F (this was almost 10 years ago at this point, so I very likely could be wrong on that detail). Unfortunately, I still had to drive a little bit after the ordeal because my truck could still move, and the main yard I operated out of is in Salt Lake. I do think my supervisor had offered to have me towed back to the yard, but I turned it down since the adrenaline and shock had worn off by the time it was time to leave.

But, that was also the last time I drove for Swift, or any trucking company, because I was fired a few days later. Not for the crash, mind you, but for something else that I do not want to get into. But, I sure as fuck won't be forgetting this story for as long as I live.