When Turkey Vultures Attack!

After Turkey Vulture committed suicide

Anyone who’s been on Facebook knows those “memories” pop up out of nowhere. The other day, one from eight years ago hit us—another family road trip. We’d taken the kids down to Scottsdale, and I was checking out MMI because I was thinking about going back to school as a motorcycle mechanic. After a week of exploring the Phoenix area, we headed home via the Grand Canyon.

Now, the Grand Canyon is impressive… but after seeing Moab, Zion, and the other marvels in Utah, it just doesn’t hit quite the same. Honestly, see the Grand Canyon before adventuring through Utah. Trust me.

Anyway—this was one of those EVENTFUL trips. The kind you remember forever.

I was cruising north on Highway 89 in Utah. Jahanel and the kids were all asleep, music low so I wouldn’t awaken the kraken. I’m mid-way through a sweeping right-hand curve when I see something launching out of the ditch on my right.

This wasn’t just any bird. This thing was the size of a semi truck.
Okay… maybe not that big. But the wingspan had to be at least six feet, the body was massive, and it wasn’t gaining altitude fast enough.

It lifts out of the ditch and—like an idiot—cuts straight into the roadway. I’m doing 65–70 mph when this prehistoric monster just barely clears the hood and absolutely obliterates the windshield. If it had hit the grille, it probably would’ve totaled the car and stranded us. The impact was so loud it woke everyone up, including me.

I got us safely to the side of the road to check on the situation. No one screamed, no one crapped themselves, no one was hurt. But the windshield? About a 3x4 inch clear spot left—totaled. The rest was shattered and caved in so far it was touching the dash. There were glass shards all the way onto the rear package shelf behind the back seat. Thank God everyone else had their eyes closed when it happened.

We had no cell service, so we had to keep moving. We cleaned the car out, covered the seats with towels and blankets, and rigged a partition so the kids wouldn’t get showered with glass. After about an hour, we found a gas station—and service. As luck would have it, a mobile glass guy was in the parking lot. Of course, he couldn’t do anything right then, but he confirmed what we already knew: we were screwed. Every windshield has to be ordered, and it usually takes a week.

He told us our best bet was to get to Salt Lake City.

So we kept heading north on 89. A cop passed us going south. I checked the mirror—nope, he didn’t turn around. About an hour later, another trooper passed us, and this time I saw brake lights in the mirror. Here we go.

“Look mom, dad got pulled over AGAIN!”

He pulls me over and gives the classic opener:
“Do you know why I pulled you over?”

Gee, officer, I have no idea. Maybe the giant hole where my windshield used to be?

I explained about the kamikaze turkey vulture and that we were trying to make it to Salt Lake to get it fixed. He told me to call a tow truck—so I explained the whole “no cell service” issue. He finally let us go, advising us to drive “a short way” until we found signal. At this point we were still four hours from Salt Lake.

We made it up to I-70, then I-15, and finally found a place to bed down for the night.

Next morning, we started calling around trying to find a shop open on a Sunday that had a Saturn Ion windshield. Miraculously, we found one. When we pulled in, I swear we were in the middle of tweekerville—but whatever. They had a windshield, and that’s all I cared about.

An hour and a half later, they had it installed and vacuumed out most of the glass. I tossed them some cash and we hit the road. Next stop: parts store for new wipers. Of course, the bird had also busted the wiper arms and snapped the wiper motor transmission linkage.

So… no wipers. And it was raining.

Rain-X it is.

I coated the windshield and we cruised the rest of the way back to western Washington.

Eight years later, I barely remember the details of that trip—but I’ll never forget that damn bird and the windshield incident. Still finding glass shards!! So when you read our trip posts and I say “uneventful trips are nice, but the memorable ones stick with you,” now you know exactly what I mean. It sucked at the time, but now? It makes one hell of a story.

Turkey Vulture - stock photo not mine