Chances of freezing rain and icy roads are in our forecast for tonight. I have a number of distinct memories about icy roads but the first I always think of is this:
Circa 1957 - Dad, Ronald and me in the car heading toward Corning on State Road 148. It was either a Saturday morning or the school buses didn't run because of the ice, but school was still open for town kids and country kids who could get there. I think the latter.
It was before 148 had been graded and paved - still the old blacktop. Going down the icy hill a mile and three quarters north of Vogel's corner, I started telling Dad he was going too fast; "Slow down!" I was sure we were going to go into the ditch. His response was something like: "It doesn't make any difference how fast or slow you drive on ice. You can start sliding either way." I think he also said something about needing enough speed to get up the next hill. Either way, my dad enjoyed driving fast, turning sharp corners, taking chances. I believe most men do.
Dad also really liked going to the car races. He never drove stock cars but I think he would like to have. After watching Jimmie Lynch and the Death Dodgers on the track at the fair grounds, he made several fast loops around the light pole in the barn yard when we got home. Whee-e-e!
Different season, different driver: Mom's driving was the opposite of Dad's. Where Dad would keep his foot on the gas until moments before he turned off the highway onto the gravel a mile east of our farm and then hit the brakes, Mom would let up on the gas pedal as we passed Tracey's and coast the rest of the way to the corner before gently breaking and turning onto the gravel.
Circa 1955: Same hill north of Vogel's corner, but on the uphill side and during the summer. Mom with both hands on the steering wheel, traveling at or below the speed limit when suddenly she shouts: "Hold on!" and braked hard. There were no other cars nor loose livestock around and there was hardly time to brace before she braked. "What on earth?" There was a huge blacksnake slithering across the road. My first thought was she didn't want to run over it, then she told us that was the way to kill a snake on the road, braking and sliding across it. As I recall, the snake was still moving toward the ditch after we passed. She didn't kill it. Frankly, I was surprised she tried, because she never killed garter snakes, so it must have had something to do with the species or size of the blacksnake.
Also, this might have happened earlier than '55 because I don't remember my little brother being in the car, just Mom, me and Betty. I drive like my Mom, though to be honest there were times in my life when I did drive too fast. And back to Dad's comment about driving on ice, I thought then, and still do, that if you lost control on ice it would be much better to go in the ditch or hit another car going slow rather than fast.
On a totally unrelated topic, for the benefit of family members and friends who haven't heard --
Early this a.m., the venerable Red Star Mill was destroyed by fire. I cannot tell you how many times I have gone there to get feed for Mom's livestock as well as my own. A lot of memories for everyone. It looks like the Red Star Feeds building and office were heavily damaged too. Very sad.
