132 Memories of a Loved One

It was August 26, 2004 and just another day on the road for my nephew, Dean Ganson, as he climbed into the big Peterbuilt at Terrace, to take over for a spell from his friend Dick Brown who had just come in from Prince Rupert with his trailer loaded with live crab bound for San Francisco. This was to be a quick trip, at least for Dean as he was fitting it in between his regular scheduled runs, and time was of the essence.

It could have been his father, in the sleeper, but as he was unable to find the time needed to make this extra run he had passed the opportunity on to Dean who jumped at the chance to make a few more bucks.

Both Dean and Dick were quite used to the monotony of such a run and it was now just shortly before 4:50 am on Friday, August 27, and Dick was once again at the wheel. After talking with his wife Dean decided to get a little shuteye so was back in the sleeper resting up for his next turn at the wheel.

It was turning into just another routine run and they were well on their way just twenty five kilometers north of Williams Lake near McLeese Lake and keeping well to their schedule.

Farther south things were not going so well for David Hart, the driver of a semi loaded with inflammables and headed for Prince George. Even as early as 2:10 am that Friday morning, he was seen flying through Cache Creek doing ninety kilometers an hour. This was just the beginning of a scenario that was to end in disaster as David Hart, who was now high on both cocaine and methamphetamine, crossed the centerline and forced a police cruiser, and then a series of vehicles onto the shoulder of the road, to escape a head on collision with his semi.

Constable Jensen stated that David Hart stayed on his side of the road between approaching vehicles but as soon as one would appear he would cross the centerline and force it off the road. The dilemma was how to get David Hart off the highway without anyone getting killed as his semi was now traveling at one hundred and twenty kilometers per hour and by this time he had forced at least twenty vehicles off the road.

It was now 4:50 that Friday morning, when the inevitable happened as David Hart who on rounding a corner swung abruptly into the oncoming path of the big Peterbuilt driven by Dick Brown with Dean Ganson now sound asleep in the cab.

The resulting inferno that erupted from the collision closed the road that Friday morning for hours as the two trucks were literally incinerated with everything in them. They burned until there was nothing left but the metal.

The pain of such a tragedy and the resulting effects it has had on the people left behind was profound and was at least partly responsible for the early admittance of his mother, Dawna, into a care home.

The memorial service in the little church at Terrace left memories that I have never forgotten to this day. It was obvious that the small town of Terrace was moved by the tragedy. The Terrace Church was packed, not only with family and aquaintenances, but also by many from the surrounding community.

I still feel the pain of that moment and will never forget the heartache caused by the senseless act of a madman that Friday morning on Highway 97 when two semis met head-on.