My father had built a new house atop a high hill. A dirt road wound up to the house. As I was standing at the bottom of the hill -- preparing to walk to the top -- my father's old girlfriend, Christa, stepped up and indicated she would like to walk up with me. I wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea, especially since I knew my father was now married to my step-mother. Nevertheless, Christa accompanied me and together we trudged the forested dirt road to the top of the hill. 

Once on top, we walked into the house and found my father. Fortunately, my step-mother wasn't there at the moment. Nevertheless, my father was obviously unhappy to see Christa and he wanted her to leave. Christa, however, refused. She maintained she had something which she wished to discuss with my father and she wouldn't budge. When I saw a car pulling up the dirt road to the house, I thought my step-mother might be arriving. I was relieved when I saw a family in the car; they looked as if they were dressed in their Sunday clothes and were out for a ride. Apparently people sometimes liked to drive up to the new house just to look at it. I soon noticed car after car driving up the hill and around the house. 

Worried that my step-mother could show up at any time, I finally told Christa she had to leave. She didn't want to, but after she had dropped a couple coins on the floor, she turned, walked out the door, and headed back down the hill. 

The road to the house was extremely steep and some cars still arriving seemed to be having problems reaching the top. When I heard the engine of a car which seemed to be having difficulty, I looked outside and saw a green Volkswagen bug heading back down the hill. A landslide of mud had slowly begun pressing down on the car pushing the car toward the steep edge of the road. A man walking along the road appeared in danger of also being swallowed by the landslide. 

I called my father to me to see what was happening. We weren't looking through a window, but through a large hole in the side and floor of the house. We were now positioned so we were directly above the road and were looking straight down at the green Volkswagen below us. I could see the man in the car, who looked on the verge of panic.

Suddenly the mud pushed the car over the steep edge of the road. The cliff was extremely high -- perhaps a kilometer straight down to the bottom, where the descent ended in a winding creek. The car bounced off crags and trees, sometimes passing out of sight then reappearing as it crashed toward the creek below. When the car was about half way down the cliff, I noticed a second person in the car, a boy probably 10-12 years old. He was sitting in the back seat reading a book, even though he was obviously terrified and probably headed toward his doom. My father said the boy was reading simply to keep calm. 

My father seemed unmoved by the spectacle. He made a comment about how he would have to hire someone to come up and repair the road, but he seemed unconcerned about the fate of the green Volkswagen and its passengers.

I wondered if I could do something to help the people in the car. I certainly couldn't jump from that height; and if I climbed back down the road, I would certainly arrive too late.

I was a bit surprised when my sister (probably 16-17 years old) walked over to the hole and also began looking down. By now I was just barely hanging on, poised precariously on the top of the hole. I realized with one wrong move I could plunge to my death. When my sister walked up close to the edge of the hole, I said to her, "Stand back. One slip and you're dead."

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