December 27, 1995, just after 4pm
I was sleeping. I was tired after walking in the snow down to Mono Lake with my sister, and we had just finished lunch and the woodstove had made it pretty warm inside the Mono Lake Committee intern house.
The siren had reached its peak by the time I roused myself and got moving. I grabbed my jacket and put on my shoes, and went into the garage to get my bike. By now the siren was wailing for a second time, and it was quiet when I got out the door and rode up the driveway. I rode into the fire station just as Stewart was firing up the number 3 "squad" fire truck. He was the only one there. I leaned my bike against the wall, walked over to Stewart, and yelled "what's up?" over the roar of the engine.
He asked if I saw anyone else coming, and I said no. He yelled to me to get my turnouts on. I ran over to the wall where the turnouts were hung, took off my jacket and shoes, and put on my boots and pants. I grabbed my jacket and helmet and went over to the passenger side of the truck. By now Grif had arrived, and asked Stewart if he knew how to pump water with this truck. Stewart replied no. They grabbed their turnouts, Grif drove, and I was in the middle.
Grif had our lights flashing as we headed north out of Lee Vining on Highway 395. Whenever he came up behind a car, he gave the siren a short wail. We were providing assistance to Mineral County, Nevada, on a car fire 9 miles into Nevada on Highway 167. Apparently one other firefighter had already headed out ahead of us in his own car.
Stewart solemnly said, "I hope we don't have any crispy critters. I don't need to see any more of those." It seemed slightly morbid, and at the same time slightly funny. But more morbid than funny. I later learned that Lee Vining Fire had recently lost one of its own in a car fire on Highway 120 East.
Grif used the radio to ask that we be notified if we weren't needed, since it was such a long drive. The firefighter ahead of us also said he'd let us know once he got there.
Once we reached Highway 167, the dispatcher told us to cancel our response. We turned around, and wondered why we were called, since we were just as far (if not slightly farther) than Hawthorne, Nevada. They must have been short-staffed too.
Grif talked about other car fires, and about how fast they happen and how if you aren't near a town, your car will probably be totaled. I resolved to buy a fire extinguisher for my car. It would suck to be trapped in a car and be burned alive, but with a fire extinguisher you could at least keep yourself and the inside of the car from burning.
We got back to the station, and Grif showed Stewart how to pump from that truck. Stewart told me about the last car fire they had--a firefighter died when his van burned up. I returned home, and was glad that I had joined the fire department, since it looked like I was needed. Only four people showed up. And this was the only day this week that I was going to be home.
Update: as of 6/7/24 I'm removing the rest of the fire calls from this blog. They are sort of an overpowering tangent from what this blog is about and take a while to scroll past. And this way AI can't get them.
