Black Ice

The Alberton Papers, V4, # 16
By Dick Darne 8-6-07
While searching around my old hometown, I came upon a place where I learned one of life’s great lessons. Of course at the time I did not realize it, that took place many years later. There is an old saying: "We get too soon old and too late smart". I was thinking of this as I stood on the banks of Pimmit Run (back in Virginia, all small creeks are known as "runs") and Old Dominion Drive, just to the east of McLean. I was waiting for Mr. Steve Dryden, from the Fairfax Trails and Streams, to go over some of the history of this stream that meandered through the old family home and served as one of my playgrounds when I was a young feller. As I waited, my thoughts wandered back almost fifty years ago, to January of 1958, when, having turned 18, I was now endowed with all the necessary knowledge, wisdom and common sense needed to embark upon life’s journey. In other words, I knew it all. Certainly more than the Old Man, who was rapidly approaching "fuddyduddydom". After all, I drove a cool car, while his was merely functional. Mine was a 1940 Ford Deluxe Coupe, his was a ‘38 Pontiac 4 door sedan with the back full of tools. Mine was beautiful, a "cherry" as described in those days, not a dent, the envy of all the guys, object of many a dream of customizing it into the ultimate street rod.
"Where the heck do you think you’re going on a night like this?" he asked me as I was opening the front door to leave.
"Out." I replied.
"It’s raining now, but it’s going to get nasty later on. There’s no good reason to go out tonight." the Old Man said.
"It’s just rain, it’s warm out and I’m always careful." I said, but was thinking. "What’s he know anyway."
I was to find out later that night.
I was heading home on Old Dominion drive, it had cooled off considerably and the rain kept coming down. The road was an old railroad grade and was pretty flat, alternating between cuts and embankments, as I approached the bridge, the roadbed was about fifteen feet above the creek bottom. Suddenly, everything got very quiet, then things viewed through the windshield were moving sideways. Absolutely no control. In a matter of seconds my beautiful coupe and I were sailing over the embankment. Then I saw stars, lots of stars. The car landed nose first, coming to rest on it’s top. I crawled out through the trunk, saw more stars when I hit the ground. My right leg was numb and useless, my head hurt, I could feel blood flowing, it was dark, I was rapidly becoming soaked and scared to death. I could see a flashlight bobbing, someone had seen the wreck, and was coming. As he passed the light over me to see how bad I was hurt, I could see the panic in his eyes, this scared me even more.
"Hang on, buddy, I’m going to get the rescue squad." he said as he left me in the dark.
"Dickie Darne, what the heck are you doing down here?" was the next voice I heard from Jack Akre, one of the McLean fireman.
In a matter of minutes I was on my way to the hospital. A few stitches above the eye, some to fix the big gash in my knee and, ugh, a foot long needle to drain the other knee. As soon as they were done, there was the Old Man waiting to take me home. And remind me that he had tried to tell me, but I just wouldn’t listen,.over and over and over. The wounds were painful but not as painful as knowing that the Old Man was right, and I was wrong. The car was totaled. Young fellows listen, your Old Man knows more than you do. Keep listening, dd