The new winter conditions made for fast lessons in driving. Not only were the roads frequently wet from rain, but often icy, if not packed with at least a thin layer of snow. This made for some interesting road conditions for all of us.
One Friday night after one of the early snowfalls, Jay came home from being in the city and announced that "the roads were murder". Then next morning, after another dusting of flurries, I cancelled my plans to drive into the city for my welding class.
Woodley's wife, Anne had purchased a used car to commute to work and school, a blue 1964 Rambler sedan named "Frank". One cold morning Woodley and I were going to meet Anne at her friend Barbara's home out on Seavey Way. Barbara was renting an old homestead cabin out in Goshen near the river that was now owned by a gravel quarry. When we came to the end of the pavement, Anne's car was sitting wedged sideways between the guard rails of a narrow bridge over the Coast Fork of the Willamette. It had been a frosty morning, and while the ice had melted off the roads, the bridge was still covered in what we here call "black ice", which is difficult to see and more difficult on which to control a car.
There was no damage to Anne's car, the front and rear bumpers were just contacting the guard rails on each side of the bridge. The pavement was still icy, and after hot-wiring her car and starting the engine, we found that it was stuck well enough that the rear tires would only spin on the ice. This gave me an idea, so I pulled out a tow strap from the back of my car and hooked it to Frank's rear bumper, connecting the other end to the front bumper of my car. Woodley got in Frank's front seat, and while he spun the rear wheels on the ice, I gave a pull backwards with my car, which was still on the pavement off of the bridge, so there was no ice under my tires. Frank was quickly pulled sideways back to proper alignment with the lane, and Woodley and I continued our drive to Barbara's house, about a half-mile away. Anne was just starting her walk back to the bridge and car after finding Barbara not at home. She was rather amazed that we were able to extricate Frank from the bridge, but hey, that's what guys ~do~.
Paul had a more serious encounter with the road that winter. He was driving along Interstate 5 just outside of Eugene one dark night when he rounded a curve and saw a dead deer laying in his lane. There was no way to change lanes to avoid it, and no time to stop, so he swerved the best he could and missed it. Unfortunately, the car didn't recover from the maneuver, went up an embankment, came down, flipped upside down and came to a rest on the highway. No injuries, but the car was pretty beat up. After righting the car and checking the fluids, Paul drove it home to the Schoolhouse, relating the incident to us with the words "I guess it wasn't my time to go".
The damage to his car was $1,800, which was a fortune back then, today that will almost fix a dented fender. The roof was caved in over the back seat, and the mirrors sheared off. All of the fenders were scraped from sliding on the pavement and the muffler had been ejected in the rollover. He continued to drive it during the worst of weather until the insurance claim had been processed. I tried to convince Paul to take the insurance money and let the Schoolhouse Auto Repair crew do something creative with the car, like build a geodesic dome on the back and turn it into a mobile herb garden. He wasn't impressed. Paul's insurance company ended up paying for the repair, and Paul kept that Celica for a lot more years.
I do remember having to scrape a lot of ice off my windshield before going anywhere in the mornings. One day I was in a hurry, and the ice wasn't coming off very well. The engine hadn't warmed up enough to make the defrosters work, so I took off driving anyway, and after rolling down the window, stuck my head out the window to see where I was going. This worked pretty well until my glasses fogged up and iced over.
One unnecessary winter trip I remember was Christmas Eve, 1975. Somebody, maybe Jay decided that we should drive into the city and get some ice cream. I thought it was nuts to drive all that way for a sugary treat, but Woodley decided it was a great idea, and Jay was going to drive, so I went along for the ride.
The streets weren't really a problem, it had been sprinkling rain, so everything was clean and wet. We arrived at the Nice Cream parlor (alternative shop run by hippies), and each had some iced confection. I remember being impressed by how quiet it seemed that night, the hustle and bustle of the holiday season had settled down, and calmness replaced the nervous hum of the city. Along Blair Street, there was a vintage house, neat and tidy with some simple yard decorations added, and the windows looked to have a display of the occupants collectable Christmas china arranged to be seen from the sidewalk. Somehow, all the glitz and glitter of the commercialized season seemed far away when I saw this heartfelt home and simple decoration.