I wrote this scene for Sophomore fall quarter. It shows Bert’s sense of humor. Unfortunately it did not advance the plot, so I ended up deleting it.
That November, after Thanksgiving break, Jim and Bert returned to Bowling Green on Sunday afternoon. An ice storm made the roads very slick — Jim actually lost control of the Buick. It was a good thing the road was deserted as the car slid sideways and finally off the road near Mansfield. There was no damage of any consequence to the vehicle (since the Buick was built like a tank), so they continued on their way. Jim now drove extremely carefully.
Jim was driving on State Route 15, approaching I-75 just outside of Findlay. Just before the I-75 on-ramp, the road was steeply banked — it had been designed at a time when the speed limit was 70 m.p.h. Instead, the ice-slick road made it necessary to drive on the right berm at a speed of about 15 m.p.h. Suddenly, a driver cut Jim off. Jim braked hard, and the Buick slid down to the bottom. He barely avoided an accident, but got stuck in the snow and ice. The car behind him had to break to avoid hitting him, and also slid to the bottom. The two cars did not hit each other, and there was no damage, so Jim and Bert, and the occupants of the other car decided to push Jim’s Buick free of the snow so it would be able to move. Once Jim was able to move his car, Jim and Bert would help the other car to get free, then both cars would drive on. That was the plan.
After a couple of minutes of pushing, Jim’s Buick broke free. Debbie Boone’s song, “You Light Up My Life” was playing on the radio when Jim’s Buick got free of the snow bank. Jim and Bert were just walking toward the other car to push it free, when yet a third car came flying around the curve, and struck the car behind them. Jim sighed. This wasn’t good. Fortunately, no one was hurt, but it had just become an accident scene. Everyone got out of their respective cars to wait for the police. Then, a fourth car then hit the third car. Now the accident was a chain-reaction accident. Still, the bad weather kept the speeds slow enough that no one was hurt. The driver and passengers got out of that vehicle — and another vehicle hit it. Still no one was hurt. The accident was now taking up enough space that if a driver was not actually on the berm, he was sure to become involved. The police were nowhere to be found.
A brand new Corvette, new that day and with less than 50 miles on its speedometer and uninsured, became involved. Its driver, a young man, took the whole accident very seriously, and very personally. The number of vehicles involved increased, and each car, as it hit the Corvette, would rotate it, so that the next car that hit it would hit it in a previously undamaged area. Soon it had been hit from all sides. It was a total loss. Still no one had been hurt, but each time the Corvette was hit, its driver would curse even more loudly that the last time, and jump higher off the pavement.
Jim walked over to Bert, and, speaking quietly, said to him, “Tomorrow this will all be funny.”
Bert’s face was working, and after a few seconds he managed to choke out, “It’s… funny… NOW.”
Jim had never seen Bert fighting so hard to keep from laughing before. Bert was fighting the urge to laugh out loud, and was doing it successfully, but his mirth was infectious. Now Jim was fighting laughter. Whether from sympathy for the others, or mere self-preservation, they managed to keep control. The group of people from the accident had crossed the highway and stood on the edge of the Findlay Airport, near the end of one runway, watching the accident scene from relative safety. Someone finally got hurt when he reached back into a wrecked auto to get a bottle of booze and cut himself, but that was the only injury in the whole pile-up. Before it was done, there were twenty-two vehicles involved, including two hit-skips, one of which was a tow truck. Jim’s car, untouched in the whole accident was the twenty-third. It turned out that there were two brand-new-that-day vehicles in the accident, and both were totaled.
Finally the police arrived. Everyone was told to re-locate to a gas station nearby. Unfortunately, about half hour after they got there, the gas station closed. At this, Jim was incensed. “They could have kept the station open for another half hour. These people need protection from the weather.” Finally, as the accident scene was being cleared up, salt trucks finally went by. “If only they had come by a couple hours earlier,” noted Jim.
Tow trucks started moving the damaged cars, and the police handed out tickets like door prizes at a party. Every driver stood in line to get his or hers. Finally it was Jim’s turn. The policeman sitting in the driver’s seat of his cruiser asked him without looking up, “Did you hit anyone?”
Jim replied, “No.”
Then the policeman asked, “Were you hit?”
Jim replied, “No.”
The policeman straightened up, looked at Jim, and asked, “Then why are you here?”
Jim replied, “The car at the front of the accident was mine.”
The policeman at that point became incensed and told Jim, “Get out of here!”
Jim replied, “Yes, sir!” Jim didn’t need to be told twice. Jim and Bert left and returned to BGSU, less than a half-hour’s drive. I-75 had been properly plowed and salted, so there were no further incidents.
They got in late, but unharmed, having lost nothing but some time. Bert got to see just the last 5 minutes of an animated adaptation of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. He had really wanted to see that program.
Copyright (c)2016, Philip Hair. All rights reserved.