Years ago when I was an apprentice lineman, we were out in a community pasture building a power line to feed a water well pump service for the cattle. To get to where we needed to go, we had a choice of taking a darn long way around a long steep hill...or go straight up it. The foreman and lead hand decided to try it first in the old 1972 International 3/4 ton pickup and see what it was like. They made it and decided it wasn't too bad and waved me on up.
I was driving the digger truck, a 1971 Fargo with single rear axle, duals and a 413 high compression engine that drank high octane only. The truck and material on it weighted a good 25,000 lbs or a bit more and we were pulling a pole trailer made out of an old truck frame and had it loaded down with a bunch of 35 foot power poles, almost two dozen of them so a good load there too.
The old Fargo had a real low first gear and we started up the hill pedal to the medal. It grunted and pulled down a bit then kept on pulling...right up until we got almost to the very top of the hill...which was just a tad steeper than the rest of it...I couldn't see anything but sky through the windshield. That was all it took...the fuel pickup in the tank uncovered and she sucked air and died! This old beast had vacuum brakes so when the engine died, so did the brakes...and the power steering. Without power steering, that old truck needed two men on the steering wheel to turn it on level ground. I quickly decided to try to get it into reverse to get the motor turning over to develop brakes and power steering since I didn't want to run it backwards and starve it for oil nor lose the power steering but...too late! The speed was already too great to get it into reverse from low.
In retrospect, that was a bad decision.
Being on that steep a hill, we quickly started to roll backwards and gain speed at an alarming rate. I had no choice but to try to back down hill without jackknifing it and rolling the truck. I was doing not too bad until the stupid newbie apprentice in the passengers seat decided he was going to jump! He opened the passenger's door, got one foot on the running bard, and then froze! He didn't know whether to jump, sh*t or go blind!
Needless to say I am now trying to back this rig up with just the driver's side mirror...screaming at the dip stick apprentice to close the effing door!
We got up to a considerable speed too on the way down...estimates from the other crew members were in the 45 mph range...did I mention the hill was steep?? Since we were in the middle of a community pasture there was also a herd of cattle that we had just drove through. The noise and commotion of us bouncing downhill half (ok, 90%) out of control was enough to scare them into running, so I missed skewering any of them on a 35 foot pole.
The other two guys on the crew were sitting in the third truck, a cornbinder, watching from behind us as we tried the hill. Why the driver never pulled right in behind me to follow me as I started up was a mystery, he said didn't know why even, but his decision saved him from getting rammed by a load of power poles. By the time I rolled to a stop, we were a good quarter mile from the top...
That was the farthest I ever backed a trailer up...fastest too!
I took a moment or three to get my heart to stop racing and then I fired up the old Fargo and we took the looong way around to the top...after switching over to the other full gas tank!
