Dead Suburban's Home Page
This page contains a story and pictures regarding a mountainside rollover I experienced with a Chevy Suburban.
Tuesday, May 6, 1986, started out as many other days, with the initial trip to the gas station to top off the forty gallon tank in my old Suburban. Jerry and I both had the day off from work and Jerry thought it would be interesting to take the Suburban on a trail he had recently explored. There was the promise of a good climb up a steep hill, a wonderful view from the mountain top, and a day of four wheeling fun. |
| The drive to the Gordon Camp site in the Dragoon Mountains is easy enough. 2-wheel drives with sufficient clearance can easily make the trip. The Camp has several ruins of old buildings and is nestled in a beautiful little valley with lots of trees and shade. What we were interested in, however, were two roads which switchback up either side of the canyon north of the camp, to yet higher elevations. (If you want the coordinates of the truck and a link to a map segment, look at the first picture in the Photo Album following the story.) |
| These are old mine roads, and in fact the road on the western side drives over a horizontal mine shaft. Hopefully, it wouldn't fall in when the nearly 8000 pounds of Suburban, driver, and a hopelessly disorganized array of tools, parts and junk that I carried in the back of the truck drove over that spot. |
| Now, before I go any farther, I've got to mention something about the power available with a 1979 smog controlled 350 engine in a 4 ton truck with 3.42 gears, an automatic, a 2-to-1 full time transfer case, 33 inch tires and at 6600 feet of elevation... there isn't any!!! It was not uncommon to find myself with my foot to the floor in 1st gear (2.5-to-1), low range just to climb a moderately steep little hill. From the outside, the truck looked impressive. It looked and sounded as if I was just casually crawling up the side of a hill, but I knew the truth. Reverse was even worse because of it's 2-to-1 ratio. |
| We had no problems with the road on the western side of the canyon. After lunch, we decided to explore the road on the east slope. The road itself was actually easier than the previous road as it was not as steep. |
| At the top, after our visit, Jerry was outside the truck and I was trying to back the Suburban up the hill far enough to get the large beast turned around. At this elevation, I simply didn't have the power to back up far enough to do this. While Jerry was getting ready to guide me backwards off this little side road, I decided that I could drive straight down the hillside to a road a 100 feet or so below the one I was on. I figured that way, I would be able to turn in the direction that would take me to the main trail. |
| Now, I have been known to do things that probably were not the smartest things in the world to do. This day was one of those days. Against all better judgment, I headed down the mountain side. Awesome! The hill was extremely steep and loose. This act alone could have ended in disaster! |
Incredibly enough, I made it down to the lower road but circumstances forced me to turn in the wrong direction once there. Again, I was faced with backing out or turning around. As Jerry watched from the upper road, I backed up in preparation to turn the truck uphill and attempt to turn around. |
| I could not hear Jerry shouting to me as I backed near the edge of the road. When I stopped, I was leaning dangerously toward the driver's side. As I put the truck in drive and started to pull forward, the right front corner raised up just a little more and that was all it took. The truck simply rolled over on its side and started its roll down the mountain. |
| The next several seconds seemed like an eternity. As the truck continued its roll down the hillside, I can remember a myriad of things going through my mind. I found religion that day. I was screaming, "Jesus, help me! Make it stop!" I also remember wondering when something was going to hit me in the head and knock me out because of all the junk in my truck. I wondered what is was going to be like to die. I thought to myself, "How much longer is this going to go on." I thought of my wife and my 6 year old son. I wondered how they would get along without me. I hollered some more! |
| The next thing, I realized I was stopped! I wasn't moving any more! I was hanging upside down, but I was stopped! I had just rolled over 9 or 10 times, a distance of about 300 feet. As I hung there for a few seconds, I looked around and decided I should probably get out of the truck. I wiggled out of my seat belt instead of simply pushing the release button and somehow managed to get my portly porker sized, 6 foot 6 inch, 500 pound frame out the back door window. |
| As I was pulling myself to a standing position and tucking in my shirt tail, Jerry came running down the hill not knowing what to expect when he got there. As I rolled down the mountain, I rolled out of sight of him. All he heard was the truck thrashing down the hill and my screaming. When the truck stopped, I stopped hollering and Jerry didn't know if I was dead or just what he would find at the truck. |
| After he got to me, he did a quick look over of my body to see if there was any major bleeding or anything out of the ordinary. As I took a step toward the back of the truck, a moderate pain in my hip told me something was wrong. Jerry went up the hill far enough to get a blanket that had been thrown out of the truck and after I got situated on the ground, he took off on foot to get some help. It was only 3 miles or so back to the main dirt road and there were some ranch houses nearby. |
| My rollover happened about 1:00 PM. About 7:15 or so, sunset was upon me and I noticed that the dome light in the truck was on. I was thinking, "Good, now I'll have a little night light." As the night sky grew darker, the dome light grew dimmer and finally died altogether. I guess batteries tend to leak when being upside down. It was a moonless night and I had a line of sight view of Tombstone about 10 to 15 miles off in the distance. It was quite a beautiful sight and I will never forget the feeling of tranquillity that I experienced as I lay there waiting for my rescue. |
About 10:00 PM, I heard some vehicles coming up the road. A few minutes later, I saw the lights. Jerry had contacted the Cochise County Search and Rescue and they were coming to save me! The rescue party, complete with a registered nurse, got to me and after the basic exam they decided that they would strap me into a little wire frame basket and carry me up the hill to the awaiting jeeps. Well, these guys got me strapped in and 5 or 6 of them picked up the basket and headed for the jeeps. About 10 feet later, they sat me back down and figured that wasn't going to work. I guess at 500 pounds, this was not going to be the typical rescue! |
| After spending an hour or two on the radio to a variety of people, I was informed that the Department of Public Safety helicopter could not lift my weight with their winch and there was no place for them to land. Next, they contacted nearby Ft. Huachuca Army Base to see if they had a helicopter available. They had one, but it was not at the base at that time. Eventually, I was informed that the marine corps was going to send a Huey the next morning from the marine base in Yuma, Arizona, 300 miles west of us. After arranging the helicopter ride back to Tucson, my rescuers managed to get me into a mine shaft a few yards away and, with me still strapped into that basket, we all settled in for the night. |
| About 10:00 AM the next morning, the helicopter arrived. As it hovered a hundred feet or so above me, one of the crew members rode down on the winch cable and supervised the attaching of my basket to the cable. After tightening the straps to the point of seriously hurting, they covered my face with a blanket to protect my eyes from the wind off of the rotors and we were airborne! The crew member stood on the basket to help keep it from spinning and while I dangled 100 feet below the helicopter, they moved me to spot about a mile away where the helicopter could land (hopefully not on top of me!) They then loaded me inside the Huey and we took off for Tucson. |
| Where was Jerry all this time, you might ask? Well, he was still with the rescue people at the Suburban. Seems like after all he did for me, I left him stranded 70 miles from home. Boy, what a nice guy I am! |
| A half an hour or so later, the helicopter landed at St. Joseph's Hospital in Tucson and there it was discovered that I had a minor fracture in the right pelvis. I was not in any pain to speak of and the course of treatment, due to my size, was to lay in a hospital bed for 6 weeks while things healed. |
Well, I did recover. Jerry did get back to Tucson. My insurance company bought the Suburban and my medical insurance paid the bills. The truck was left where it was, as removal would have meant building a road to it, or airlifting it from the site. The insurance company told me that if the National Forest Service insisted, they would remove it. As far a I know, it is still there. |
| Jerry and several of our friends made a few weekend trips after the accident to pick up tools and personal items that were scattered along the hillside. They also got a few items off the truck, like the newly rebuilt transfer case, and my custom rear bumper, neither of which I ever used again. They are also responsible for the pictures taken of the site. |
| Almost a year to the day later, I returned to the site with my friend Tom Pollack and we looked the site over and took a few more pictures. The truck at this time was totally stripped of everything useful and was slowly succumbing to the effects of nature. |
| The final resting place! Rest in peace, ol' truck! |
 | The final resting place (location updated 7/22/07). Rest in Peace, ol' Truck! At an altitude of 6619 feet, (Lat. 31d, 52m, 58.88s North; Long. 109d, 58m, 42.88s West) in the southwestern portion of the Dragoon Mountains about 11 miles north of Tombstone, Arizona, lay the remains of my old truck! (see map - 130k - Note the new coordinates in the above text.) |
 | Ahhh, the escape hatch! Being a rather large and portly porker, I still managed to squeeze my 6 foot 6 inch, 500 pound frame out the back door window. It seemed like the thing to do at the time, as I really didn't like hanging upside down by my seat belt! |
 | A look at the driver's side door. Hey, do you think I can get that little leak around the tire bead sealed? |
 | After rolling over 9 or 10 times, the truck still retained it's box shape. Pretty strong roof, I think. By the way, the truck had no roll bar! Two spare tires were mounted on the roof. One was still under the truck and the other was beside the truck. |
 | I spent from 1:00 PM to about 10:00 PM resting on the ground just at the lower edge of this picture waiting for Jerry and the rescue group to get back to me. At one point in the moonless evening, I heard a little "squeak" and felt a tiny tug on my blanket. Apparently, some little critter thought he'd hit the mother lode and wanted me for dinner! |
 | The front bumper and the Chevy grill emblem are still in good shape! |
 | The final resting place. Rest in Peace, ol' Truck! |
 | Where did this come from? Boy, you'd think that someone (this is Jerry's truck) who went through all that trouble to build a nice 4x4 (Nissan body with custom convertible top, Toyota axles with 4.88's and Detroit lockers F/R, Chevy V6, automatic and transfer case) would at least be able to tighten the bolts on his front bumper, which by the way, fell off a few yards down the trail! |
 | Discount Tire wouldn't even honor the warranty on the rim! Can you believe it?! I kept trying to tell them that it was just a simple road hazard that did this! |
 | Home Sweet Home! Just a few yards from the truck is the mine shaft where I spent the night with the Cochise County Search and Rescue guys while we waited for a helicopter for the ride back to a Tucson hospital. The Marine Corps sent a Huey from the marine base in Yuma the next morning. |
 | This is a view from the road looking south. The town of Tombstone is 10-15 miles in the distance. I had a great view of the town's lights that night. This is about the location that the other pictures of the hillside were taken from. The Suburban is resting peacefully some 100 yards west of here. |
 | A picture of the hillside. My truck is in the lower left portion of the picture up against a tree. Beyond the tree, there were several hundred feet of hillside remaining before you got to the bottom. I don't think I would have survived if that tree hadn't been there.... Good tree! |
 | It's hard to see, but just below the arrow on the right, is my friend Tom. He stands about 5 and a half feet tall and is standing at the spot where my roll-over started. The arrow at the left is pointing to the remains of the truck. The distance is about 300 feet! This picture was taken one year after the accident. This time, I managed to keep my Blazer on the road! |
 | A view of the truck one year after the accident. The local scavengers have gotten everything salvageable and it is now left to the elements.
The final resting place. Rest in Peace, ol' Truck! |
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Thank you for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the Saga of the Suburban and the
Barry Burnett - Tucson, Arizona - USA - zil@zilbandy.com
This page created on 1/13/1997.
Last Modified: 11/23/2011
Copyright © 1997-2012 Barry (Zilbandy) Burnett, All rights reserved.