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Jeff Mostoller never saw the tree root nudging out of the dirt trail.

The knobbed tire of his Mongoose mountain bike slammed into the root. Mostoller and bike both went flying, he slamming facedown into puddle of mud, the bicycle crashing across his back.

''I couldn't move anything'' from the neck down, he recalled.

It was May 15, and he was riding the winding, off-road trail in Greenville, Pa., with his youngest son, Aaron, 15.

''When he first hit, I thought it was just another crash,'' Aaron said as they talked about it five months later. ''And then he started screaming my name, screaming for help. I didn't know what to do.

''I threw the bike off him,'' Aaron said. ''I rolled him over, not knowing what to do next.''

Jeff's back remained in a rigid arch, his stomach stuck up in the air. Trying to calm his son, he asked, ''Do I look fat?''

It was the next questions that further scared an already terrified Aaron: ''Did my left hand move? Did my right hand move? Did my leg move?'' No, no and no.

Aaron wanted to run for help. Jeff told him to stay by his side. Aaron stayed, fighting tears, fighting the feeling that everything was his fault. After all, wasn't he the reason his Dad hit the root?

He had been pedalling in the lead but was getting smacked in the face by dew-misted cobwebs still clinging to overhanging tree branches. So he called back to his dad to pass him. Ha! Let him get the cobwebs.

''I don't know how you got in front of me anyhow,'' Jeff said said. ''I'm usually in the lead.''

''You were going too slow,'' Aaron said with a grin.

Jeff passed, hit the root, and here they sat, Dad unable to move and fading in and out of consciousness, son not able to leave him, no other cyclists passing through and without a phone to make a call.

''I remember this so plainly,'' Jeff said. ''(Before we started to ride,) he said, 'Should we take our cell phones?' I said, 'Naw,' and we both left them in the car.''

After about 20 minutes, an excruciating pain started to overwhelm Jeff. Feeling pain. That had to be better than feeling nothing, right?

Jeff finally allowed Aaron to get the phones from the van. The Lakeview High School soccer player flew more than a mile back to the car, saying it was the fastest he ran in his life. But when he got back, his dad still would not permit him call 911. Nor did he want to bother his two oldest children, Adam and Angela, both emergency room nurses. A son-in-law also is a nurse. Jeff himself is an ultrasound technician at Forum Health Northside Hospital.

Jeff simply called his wife, Lonnie.

''He called me and said, 'Something bad has happened,' and the phone went dead,'' Lonnie said. ''He called again and said, 'Don't get scared. Something bad happened. I think I'm paralyzed,'' and the phone went dead. This happened three times.

''I was too far away, and I didn't know exactly where they were at,'' she said.

Jeff directed Aaron to get the bikes back to the car. Aaron propped his dad against a tree and made the two-mile round trip twice more, throwing up on the way back the last time.

Then the thin boy, who is about 3 inches shorter than his 6-foot-tall, 200-pound dad, lugged him down the trail.

''He carried me like an old drunken sailor out of the woods,'' Jeff said.

''In retrospect, we should have left the bikes,'' Jeff mused.

''You think?'' Lonnie shot back. ''And you think you should have called 911?''

''Had it been him,'' Jeff said, ''I would have left the bikes and called 911. But when it's you, you're trying to reason it out. I'll need the bike. I'm going to ride again.''

The truth of the matter is he was in shock and not thinking, he said. And Aaron, in shock himself, was setting aside instincts and listening to his dad, who, he knew, should know what he's talking about.

So, again at his dad's request, Aaron, a licensed driver for less than three months, bypassed the hospital in Greenville to drive to Northside.

Son Alex, then a Lakeview senior, met his family there. Alex was heading out for lunch at school when he checked messages on his cell phone. He heard his little brother's voice: He said, ''I think Dad's dead,'' and he hung up.'' Sister-in-law Natalie also was on the messages, and he found out more from her. Alex left school and met the family at Northside.

''My dad was strapped down to a hospital bed, connected to five different machines. He was just as scared as us,'' Alex said. ''His face is still fresh in my mind. He had mud caked in his teeth and hair, he was shivering, and he was all wet and bloody from his fall. I just kept praying to God, 'I just wanted my dad to be OK.' ''

Jeff was flown by helicopter to Cleveland Clinic, where a bone from his hip was fused into his neck, and two metal rods were placed along his spinal cord.

''If he would have injured one vertebrae higher, he would have been permanently paralyzed and on a tracheotomy.''

He returned home on a Tuesday.

''My dad was walking,'' Alex said. ''Just four days ago, he was paralyzed. It amazed me.''

Jeff was off work 12 weeks. Most days still are pain-filled, and that may continue for at least another year, Lonnie said.

''I'm doing pretty good compared to what I was, what I could be,'' he said.

He's back to walking a mile and biking up to five miles at a time. He used to pedal 20 to 50 miles an outing, but he figures he'll get there.

Aaron doesn't care if he ever gets on a bike again. He knows he will get back on the bicycle and ride. Some day. He won't hide behind his fears forever. But it doesn't have to be today.

Jeff has his own goal: ''On May 15 of next year, we're going to go back and examine the trail.''

Looking back, Jeff said, ''It really turned out to be a blessing that it happened,'' Jeff said, ''just to realize how much love we have for each other. And God's help. Our faith in God helped.

''Aaron saved me but it was my whole family that healed me. None of it would have been possible without God.

''I never want to go through it again but it was such an eye-opening experience and a heart-opening experience to see such an outpouring of love.''

Friends, family, strangers... the family pets were tended to while the family was at the hospital, donations were given and Lonnie said she didn't have to cook for two weeks.

''Oh, this community ...,'' Jeff started before the rest of the sentence was choked away by emotion.

Lonnie said she marveled at her own children. It's the goal of parents to raise their children to grow into responsible adults who will do the right thing. But to witness it in action, to see one's ''babies'' in their own profession and to watch them taking care of their dad and the rest of the family in times of crisis - ''Wow,'' she said.

Aaron still struggles.

''I don't feel that I saved his life,'' he said. ''Without me, it could have been worse, but I have it in my mind that it was my fault.''

His family disagrees.

Jeff, an avid cyclist who often rides alone, countered, ''If I had been by myself, the same thing would have happened.''

''He is not the reason Dad got in the accident; he is the reason my dad is alive,'' Alex said.

''If it wasn't for Aaron,'' Lonnie said, ''Jeff may have not made it out of those woods alive. Aaron, you are our hero! Thank you.''

bcole@tribtoday.com