Lost my brakes coming down Raton Pass in NM back in the 80's. Stayed on the blacktop, there were no truck ramps by the time I needed one, stayed (mostly) in my lane, and thankfully, everyone got out of my way on the way down. Something about a semi coming up behind you at over 120 mph in the fast lane, blaring the air horn, and flashing highbeams. Folks actually paid attention and got out of my way.
One of the few times in my life I was "certain" I was going to die. Looked over at the rookie riding shotgun with me, and said this was probably it. He asked if we should jump, to which I said, we'd die for sure then, just tighten your seatbelt all the way tight and hang on.
Once we came out of the pass, it took MANY MILES before the truck slowed down enough I could put it back in top gear (8th) and throw the engine brake back on. Then it took MILES of Jake brake and downshifting before I got it slowed down enough to take a side exit that followed parallel to the interstate. Jaked it down to a crawl in 1st, but rolled right through the parking brake, even popping the safety valves wouldn't stop us. Finally got the rookie to come out of his terror-coma and throw the wheel chocks out in front of us, and rolling over those actually stopped us.
Took the rest of our convoy (military) 20 minutes to catch up to us.
Good times.
And that's how the name Slowpoke Slim was born?