From the April, 2008 issue of Reader's Digest:
As he approached the St. Helens, Oregon, city limits, Chris Howard took his foot off the gas, signaled for a turn and eased into the right lane. He had just gotten off his shift as a foreman for a local industrial contractor, and his mind wandered a bit while he drove. But then he saw something that made him snap to attention. A hundred yards ahead, a loaded lumber truck was coming his way, on the wrong side of the four-lane highway. The truck was on the shoulder and going only about 10 mph, but it was weaving badly, forcing panicked drivers to slam on their brakes.Howard stopped, and when the truck rumbled past him, he saw that the driver, who was frantically glancing over his shoulder as he swerved toward the lanes of traffic, was young. "This guy," Howard muttered to himself, "should have his license pulled."
As the 50-ton truck kept going, he got a better look. The driver was a little kid.
Clinging to the steering wheel with his nine-year-old hands, Matty Lovo tried to remember what his dad did when he drove. Moments earlier, his father, Matt, had collapsed just after talking to his wife on his cell phone. As he slid onto the floor, the truck veered off the road and clipped a telephone pole. With no one at the wheel, the truck, still in gear, slowly rocked its way along the highway.
Instinctively, Matty unbuckled his seat belt, scrambled over his father's motionless body and plopped into the driver's seat. He had to kneel on the seat to see out the windshield. It took all his strength to turn the steering wheel. Somehow Matty managed to grab the CB radio and call for help. An anonymous voice told him to find the ignition key and turn it off. He did. The truck slowed down, but it didn't stop.
Thinking the boy was on a joyride, Howard jumped from his car and ran after the semi. He figured he'd have to get behind the wheel to stop the runaway rig. To do that, he'd have to jump into it while it was moving.
Howard knew that if he stumbled, he could fall under the big rolling wheels. Without breaking stride, he leaped onto the driver's-side running board. With one hand, he caught hold of the grab bar, and with the other, he yanked open the door handle and peered into the cab.
Howard had been inside a semi just once: When he worked at a tire shop, he backed a rig into a bay. He knew the wrong move could make the truck jackknife.
He grabbed the wheel from Matty. As the truck continued to bump along the highway, Howard flattened himself against the cab, the door banging against him. He searched the dashboard for a power switch but found nothing. He looked for the ignition key but couldn't see it.
Out of desperation, Howard stepped into the cab as far as he could and stomped on the brake pedal with his right foot. His body shook as the truck jerked to a stop.
He turned to Matty and said, "What were you doing?"
"My dad!" Matty cried. "I don't know what happened." Until then, Howard hadn't noticed the man slumped on the floor. He was breathing and his eyes were open, but they had a glazed look. Howard tried to rouse him.
"What's his name?" he asked.
"Matt," said the boy.
"Matt!" Howard yelled. "Can you hear me?"
Howard unwrapped the seat belt from around the elder Lovo's body. He tried to lift him but couldn't. As if things weren't crazy enough, the Lovos' dogs, a pair of dachshunds that had taken cover in the footwell during the wild ride, started barking and nipping at Howard's hands. He ignored them, telling Matty everything would be just fine.
"Call 911!" he shouted to the gathering crowd.
It turned out that a bad reaction to an antibiotic had caused the trucker to faint. When later tests showed no other problems, he was back on the road. Howard gave a statement to police, got back in his car and drove home. Only then did he have a chance to consider what he'd done. "My heart was racing -- it was such an intense experience," he says. "But at the time, I was going on adrenaline. There was no time to be scared."
