A tragedy in Ogden Canyon claimed the lives of a Utah father and his 16-year-old daughter when their pickup truck was struck by a flying bulldozer.
Reports indicate that Richard Hendrickson, the CEO of Lifetime Products, was in the car with his wife and three children when a tow truck traveling in the opposite direction lost control of the mini bulldozer it was hauling, which then collided with the family’s vehicle.
Hendrickson and his daughter Sally were killed at the spot. The rest of the passengers survived.
The tragic accident took place on Saturday, July 6 while the family were traveling up a narrow two-lane road in Ogden Canyon in eastern Weber County, Utah.
When it tried to turn, about 12:49 p.m, the tow truck hauling heavy equipment was traveling eastbound, as per the Department of Public Safety.
While “negotiating a right-hand curve,” the “bulldozer broke free” from the tow truck and was launched into Hendrickson’s westbound GMC pickup, which was towing a boat.
The surviving passenger were treated for minor injuries.
Tributes from family and friends started pouring in, referring to Hendrickson as to “trusted and cherished” man and a “visionary.”
“It is with profound sadness that we announce the tragic and sudden passing of our CEO and President, Richard David Hendrickson. This heartbreaking incident also claimed the life of one of his daughters, Sally,” Lifetime Products writes in a statement. Describing the man as “more than a company leader,” the statement continues, “He was also a visionary and a friend to many within our business and the wider community.”
Barry Mower, the organization’s founder, contributed to the statement, “He was one of my most trusted and cherished friends and will be sorely missed.”
Utah Governor Spencer Cox expressed his condolences to the family on X, writing, “Richard was a friend and incredible leader. We are heartbroken by his tragic passing with his daughter Sally. We mourn with the surviving members of his family and pray they will find comfort and healing.”
The post of Governor Cox gathered the attention of many. One person commented, “Praying for Richard’s family, this is absolutely senseless! Gov Cox you and your administration MUST do something to strictly regulate and severely penalize unsafe loads.”
Following the tragedy, a petition was initiated to prohibit larger vehicles from using the narrow “two-lane passageway” bordered by the Ogden River on one side and steep mountain cliffs on the other.
As of Tuesday, the petition, which aims to reach 5,000 signatures, had garnered around 3,300. The petition states, “We are raising this petition to enforce regulation on the types of vehicles permitted on Highway 39 that transverses the heart of Ogden Canyon. There is an urgent need to limit the particular categories of vehicles that can drive through this constricted roadway, ensuring the security of all who rely on it.”
Our thoughts and prayers go to the grieving family.
MY MOTHER-IN-LAW GOT A KITTEN AT 77 — AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA?
The soft mewling sound echoed through the phone, a high-pitched, insistent cry that sent a fresh wave of frustration through me. “Isn’t she just the sweetest thing, darling?” my mother-in-law, Eleanor, cooed, her voice bubbling with an almost childlike delight.
I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my voice even. “She sounds… energetic,” I managed, picturing the tiny ball of fur wreaking havoc on Eleanor’s pristine living room.
Eleanor, at 77, had decided to adopt a kitten. A tiny, ginger terror named Clementine. And I, frankly, thought it was a terrible idea.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like cats. I did. But Eleanor was living alone, her health was… delicate, and the thought of her chasing after a hyperactive kitten filled me with dread.
“She’ll keep me active!” Eleanor had declared when she’d announced her new companion. “And I’ve been so lonely since Arthur passed.”
I’d tried to be diplomatic. “That’s wonderful, Eleanor,” I’d said, “but maybe a fish would be a better choice? Something a little less… demanding?”
She’d waved my suggestion away with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Nonsense! Clementine is perfect. She’s my little companion.”
“Companion” was one word for it. “Chaos” was another.
Kittens were a whirlwind of claws and teeth, demanding constant attention, requiring frequent vet visits, and possessing an uncanny ability to find trouble. I could already envision Eleanor, her frail frame struggling to keep up with the kitten’s boundless energy, the inevitable accidents, the scratched furniture, the sleepless nights.
And then, there was the inevitable. What would happen when Eleanor’s health deteriorated? What would happen when she could no longer care for Clementine?
I knew the answer. I’d be the one left to pick up the pieces, to find a new home for the kitten, to deal with Eleanor’s heartbreak.
My husband, Michael, was no help. “She’s happy,” he’d said, shrugging. “Let her have her fun.”
“Fun?” I’d retorted. “She’s going to break a hip chasing that thing!”
But I was the only one who seemed to see the impending disaster. My friends, my family, even Eleanor’s bridge club, all thought it was a wonderful idea. “It’s keeping her young!” they’d chirp. “It’s giving her a purpose!”
I felt like I was living in a bizarre alternate reality, where everyone had lost their minds.
Weeks turned into months. Clementine grew into a mischievous young cat, a ginger blur that terrorized Eleanor’s houseplants and shredded her curtains. Eleanor, surprisingly, seemed to be thriving. She’d developed a newfound energy, a spring in her step that I hadn’t seen in years.
She’d joined an online cat forum, sharing photos and videos of Clementine’s antics. She’d even started taking her to a local cat café, where she’d made new friends.
One afternoon, I visited Eleanor, expecting to find chaos. Instead, I found her sitting on the sofa, Clementine curled up in her lap, purring contentedly. Eleanor looked radiant, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
“She’s been so good today,” she said, stroking Clementine’s soft fur. “We’ve been having a lovely afternoon.”
I watched them, a strange mix of emotions swirling within me. I’d been so convinced that this was a terrible idea, a recipe for disaster. But I’d been wrong.
Eleanor wasn’t just keeping Clementine; Clementine was keeping Eleanor. She was giving her a reason to get out of bed in the morning, a source of companionship, a spark of joy in her life.
I realized then that my concern, while well-intentioned, had been misplaced. I’d been so focused on the potential problems that I’d overlooked the simple truth: Eleanor was happy. And that, in the end, was all that mattered.
As I left her house, I smiled. Maybe, just maybe, I’d been the one who needed to learn a lesson. Sometimes, the best things in life are the ones we least expect.
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