As I drive to the upper limits of Gilpin County, the November sun pierces my eyes at unexpected moments cutting through the evergreen branches devoid of snow typically developed by this time in the year. Following directions on roads more and more remote in nature, I finally arrive at my destination: the earth ship home that belongs to Tom and Mary Haus.

Feeling fortunate to be visiting with Tom at all on this unseasonably warm day, I let myself in with a hello. I wander towards his voice carrying above the scuffle of two black and white cats vying to get out the door. Then I spot Tom sitting in his easy chair with a gentle grin and a twinkle in his eye as he was expecting to see me so he can tell his story. A story we are all eager to hear and relish our good fortune at being able to hear directly from the man himself after he survived a harrowing accident. But I digress, for I arrived with Veterans Day in mind, and Tom is a veteran.

Tom began his driving career on a tractor owned by his aunt and uncle as part of Bromley Machine in Brighton, Colorado, when he was just 14. He likened himself to the “hey go move that truck” kid and he relished every opportunity. His father was an over the road truck driver who used to let him drive a little on the highway once in a while, an 18 gear truck. It would be quite some time before he would have another opportunity to operate one again.

As Bill, the black and white cat who is a little more friendly, meows and runs himself along my leg (don’t kid yourself I think, it’s because I am sitting in his nap chair), I listen as Tom tells me how he entered the Air Force at 19. He went to McConnell Air Force Base in Wichita, Kansas, where he began his career in what turned out to be the last class to learn how to work on propeller aircraft (the Air Force no longer made nor operated propeller planes at that point). Luckily, he also was trained to work in support for liquid and gas oxygen supply, a field of focus he held for four years that he loved.

As fate would have it, Tom then transferred to Aurora, Colorado, where he joined the Buckley Air National Guard. It was there that he learned how to load bombs and missiles onto aircraft, a job he also thoroughly enjoyed. While there and at Henderson in the National Guard, he also worked at the Henderson Mine in his off time.

At this point, Tom pauses to take a drink and we rearrange his pillow supporting his back because, although he has made miraculous strides in recovering from his accident, he still has more PT to do before he is fully recovered. However, this does not stop him from sharing an anecdote about how he ended up becoming a member of the Honor Guard.

One day, someone came in looking for volunteers which caused everyone to scatter but Tom, who inquired about the nature of the request. When they said Honor Guard, he did not know what it meant until a buddy told him that it meant funerals (which is why everyone scattered). It turned out to be an opportunity that he loved and for which he attributes a respect for the American Flag that is, in his words, 100 times deeper than he ever would have developed otherwise.

He described marching in parades, and going out to cemeteries to honor the fallen heroes. One time, he said they were all lined up in a church standing at attention in over 90 degree southern plain weather with a preacher that was taking his time preaching. People were passing out from the heat, and Tom ended up passing out as well even though he was always known to have a stronger than average constitution.

Another time, he was asked to attend a parade but they gave him unloaded guns, something that was against protocol because you cannot protect the American Flag without ammunition. He was sent to the shooting range as punishment, where it was freezing cold weather and they were all underdressed. It was so cold that when he was called to go through the two shooting drills, he popped them off as fast as he could at the target and then headed into shelter. Once the exercise was complete, it was discovered that he shot a 98%, a feat that earned him a US Air Force Expert Marksman award and two stripes. He also earned the esteemed position of being right next to the American Flag in future events, a position of honor for his ability to protect it. He says they never sent him out with an empty chamber again.

Due to his driving history and licenses, he was always the one to drive in the motorcades. He was the only one to hold a military driver’s license in his crew, and once he obtained his motorcycle license they had him go through military class for that license as well. His experience, expertise and accumulated accolades working in the Support Section of maintenance advanced him to be granted a position as a supervising inspector, a position usually only granted to Sergeants.

Tom described working on KC135 Air refueling tankers and refueling planes while they were out flying. He also worked on the planes as a qualified aircraft crew chief mechanic. He flew the planes on the ground, so to speak, when they were removed from service for maintenance, controlling the brakes as they were towed to hangers. Tom also spent time in Florida at Jackson Air Force Base loading missiles and bombs into what he describes as very old 50s style airplanes.

Later on, Tom moved back to Denver where he and his father started their own service business working on Rainbow Vacuums for 20 years. They would travel back and forth across the country servicing units where ever needed. They eventually quit when his father retired and shortly thereafter passed away. It was his father that taught him how to drive and to operate a double clutch, something he later changed to floating gears.

It was in Wheat Ridge where Tom also got his first driving job, where he describes always being the one to drive the Boom truck because he loved it so much. He later bought his first truck, the Bonny, from John Schmitz of Koine Trucking. John is the one who reminded Tom how to operate an 18 gear truck so he could buy the Bonny from him. He later bought Papa Smurf, his blue truck that also gave him his handle “Papa Smurf”.

In 2005, he started Tomar Trucking at the behest of Steve McCollum and a state inspector that recommended Tom to Steve for a job in the Russell Gulch area. He and his wife Mary have run Tomar Trucking in the community ever since, hauling thousands of loads of gravel and dirt from Idaho Springs to western Boulder County and beyond. They work with dozens of local excavators to deliver everything needed any day of the week.

Which finally brings us to the accident. Tom was working with Layton on a job off Soda Creek Drive in Idaho Springs. He remembers driving up behind the new clinic on Chicago Creek Drive and at the time wondered what the new clinic was going to be. It turns out it’s his doctor’s office now that he is out of the hospital. Further up past Indian Hot Springs where the road gets rough and narrow, past the Y to where the county had put in a big wide road a while back, he tells me with a faraway look in his eye.

He remembers going around switchbacks until suddenly he could feel his right rear wheels start to give way. He thinks he may have groaned as he thought to himself “I know I didn’t get too close to the edge, because I have taught so many people to not do that.”

The road had given away and his truck slid backwards and down an embankment 100 feet, flipping six times and totaling the truck.

Tom says he does not remember the slide because he figures that is when God reached down and switched off his memory. He does not remember anything past the road giving away, nor does he remember that it had been raining all day. He does recall waking up in St. Elsewhere Hospital on 84th and 120th, a rehab hospital he calls St. Elsewhere after the TV show of his youth. It was there that he had to learn how to eat again, walk again, and pretty much anything else we all take for granted.

If all the details he describes of the accident sound vague, consider the fact that Tom sustained a crushed skull, a crushed trachea, all but one of his ribs broken and most in multiple places, both lungs were punctured, both clavicle bones broken and what he can only describe as a piece of his shoulder broken off, his left tibia broken in two places, a broken neck and he left the hospital with a rod installed along his spine from the base of his skull to the top of his tailbone.

At St. Anthony’s, the first hospital he landed in, he was called a miracle for being alive. The things he does remember are moments of extra kindness and care by nurses, although he can not remember their names, and one he knew from his time in the mountains.

When I asked him if he thought he would ever drive again, he said, “oh sure, just let me find my wallet” and he winked at me. Aside from that, his house is getting a few upgrades to accommodate his need for a cane while he continues rehabilitating. His medical bills are now over a million dollars and are expected to continue to accumulate until he is back to normal.

There is an ongoing donation bucket at Roy’s Last Shot and a special of the week with direct donations to the Haus family for each #1 special (special item changes weekly).