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 HUSBAND LEFT ME AND OUR KIDS FOR HIS MISTRESS – I WAS FURIOUS AND TOOK MY REVENGE.
The bitterness tasted like ash in my mouth. How could he? How could he just walk away, leaving us like discarded toys? Mark, my husband of fifteen years, the man I’d built a life with, had traded us in for a shiny, new model. A twenty-year-old, no less. A coworker. I’d suspected something was off, the late nights, the secretive phone calls, but I’d pushed it aside, trusting him. Foolish me.
The day I caught them, at that cheap motel on the outskirts of town, was seared into my memory. The look on his face, a mixture of guilt and something disturbingly close to relief, still haunted my dreams. He didn’t even try to deny it, just mumbled some pathetic excuse about “finding himself.”
The divorce was a whirlwind of lawyers and paperwork, a cold, clinical process that stripped away the remnants of our life together. He’d agreed to everything, too quickly, too easily. I was left with a pittance, barely enough to cover a few months’ rent.
Then came the real insult. He’d put our marital home, the house where we’d raised our kids, the house filled with memories, up for sale. And he’d listed it for an absurdly inflated price, far exceeding the online valuation used during the financial order. The judge had signed off on it, seemingly oblivious to the glaring discrepancy.
I was left scrambling, barely able to make ends meet, while he was raking in a fortune. Seeing that listing online, the photos of our home, now staged and impersonal, was like a knife to the heart. It was a constant reminder of everything I’d lost.
But the final straw was when his new fiancée, the mistress, announced on social media that they were buying a “dream home” because they were expecting a baby. A baby! He was building a new life, a new family, while my kids were struggling, while I was drowning in debt. The injustice of it all was suffocating.
I was consumed by rage, a burning desire for revenge. I wanted him to feel the same pain, the same despair, that he’d inflicted on me. I wanted him to understand the consequences of his actions.
It wasn’t until I visited my former mother-in-law, a woman who had always been kind to me, that a plan began to form. She was as devastated by Mark’s actions as I was. We sat in her cozy kitchen, sipping tea, and she told me stories of Mark’s childhood, of his father’s own infidelity, a pattern repeating itself.
Then, she mentioned a small, overlooked detail. A safety deposit box, inherited from Mark’s father, containing… well, she wasn’t entirely sure. She’d always assumed it was just old documents.
The next day, I went to the bank. I’d remembered Mark mentioning the box once, years ago, but he’d dismissed it as unimportant. I presented myself as his legal representative, using a power of attorney document I’d obtained during the divorce proceedings, a document Mark had signed without reading thoroughly.
Inside the box, nestled amongst faded photographs and yellowed letters, was a stock certificate. A substantial amount of shares in a company that had recently skyrocketed in value. Mark, in his haste to leave, had completely forgotten about it.
I sold the shares.
The money, a significant sum, allowed me to pay off my debts, secure a comfortable apartment for myself and the kids, and even put a down payment on a small business.
I didn’t tell Mark. I didn’t gloat. I simply moved on, building a new life for myself and my children. The satisfaction wasn’t in the money, but in the knowledge that I had taken back control, that I had turned his betrayal into my liberation. And maybe, just maybe, he’d learn that some things, like family, are worth more than any fleeting infatuation.
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