Growing up Bill presented some problems in my mid to late teens. Of course one of the biggest Rights of Passage for any 16 year old was the driver's license. Now because of my extra-curricular activities i.e. marching band, I never had time to get my license even when most of my classmates did. I can still remember sitting in Study Hall and talking to Mel about how she had her license, and I still did not have mine despite my being older. Sometime between my sophomore and junior year, I got my license and was on the road. I was always going to the ACME market there at Bridge and Main for my mom so I could drive. I became a driving fool. I also became another kind of fool. I had started smoking again because, I was driving and wanted to look cool while I was driving.
It was August of my junior year, I had gone home for lunch from band camp for some unknown reason. On my way back to Spring-Ford high school, I decided not to go down Main Street to avoid the lunch time traffic. I went up Chestnut Street and all the way across to Yost Avenue. I decided I would go down Yost Avenue. Yost Avenue was a wide enough street but there was parking on both sides, which made navigation tricky sometimes. Navigation became trickier as I was smoking a cigarette while driving because - "Hey I was cool." I should say at this time, that I suspect many people in Spring City thought I was this really nice little boy. I was really never in trouble or a problem. I spent most of my time in front of my house blasting band music and twirling the batons, or rifle, or flag. I was visible most of the time. So I am driving down Yost Avenue and to be cooler, I put the cigarette in the ash tray, something I never did while smoking. The speed limit on Yost was about 25 MPH - when I looked at the speedometer I was going close to 35 MPH (Having a heavy foot runs in my family!).
Suddenly, without any warning, the cigarette fell to the floor of the car. At this point I kept my smoking hidden from my family. I was terrified that the cigarette on the floor would burn a whole in the rug, and I would get busted for smoking. While holding on to the steering wheel with my left hand, I leaned over to the right to pick up the cigarette. I guess when I leaned right I also turned the wheel to the right and slammed into a parked car. All I could think of was my parents were going to "Shit a brick" when they found out. I was quite responsible when I got out of the car. I was concerned about getting in touch with the people whose car I hit. People began flooding out of their homes like a tidal wave. Suddenly a woman looked at me and screamed (I know they do it all the time why would this be any different?) I reached up to brush my cheek because I now felt something on it. Sure enough it was blood, and I was bleeding profusely from a cut under my eye. You know where the bone is for the top of your cheek but the part under the eye where there is nothing but skin and bone. This woman ran into the house to get me something. I asked the neighbors to call the police and, having seen my face, an ambulance was called as well.
It was not long before the woman returned with a wash cloth wrapped around ice cubes to put on my face. Shortly after that the police arrived. I was ushered into the car and probably for the hundredth time since the accident I told the police officer my parents were going to "Shit a brick" when they found this out. The police man asked all the usual accident type questions. He asked how fast I was going, and I told him I thought it was about 35. He said out loud, "Speed limit is 25 on this street." I responded with a less than enthusiastic, "Oh." He continued saying, "Well you are a good kid and you are never in trouble, so I will write down you were going 25 MPH." I was stunned but not going to question the police. He asked me how it happened. OK - so I was so embarrassed that I hit a car and not just a car - but a parked car. I felt like the biggest loser all because I leaned down to pick up a cigarette I should not have been smoking in the first place. I had just gotten new contact lenses and was seriously having trouble with them. They would get blurry, and I would have to blink to clear them. So to save face about the cigarettes, I told the officer that I had taken a long extended blink to clear my contacts. Now I know what you are thinking - OMG you lied to the police. I would prefer to look at it as though I bended the truth a bit to save myself from my parents finding out I was smoking. I am sure the officer was like, "Really?" Thankfully that was written in the report.
By this time the ambulance had arrived and there was a debate about taking me to Phoenixville Hospital by ambulance or some other means. I am not sure about this, but I think I was headed into the "shock" portion of the accident as I don't really remember much until I was in the ambulance. My mother was working at Valley Forge Flag not very far from where the accident occurred, and so just about the time I left in the ambulance, she arrived on the scene. Since the ambulance had already departed, the nice police officer offered to drive her to the hospital. Before she left she removed my belongings from the car.
The people in the ambulance were questioning me about the accident. I guess they smelled the cigarette on my breath. I explained about the extended blink and how my parents were not only going to "Shit a brick" but by now it had escalated to a "Gold Brick." One of the ambulance attendants laughed and then said something about how he knew of someone who was smoking in their car and dropped the cigarette on the floor of the car. When this guy bent over to pick it up, he also hit a parked car. I can recall nearly shitting my pants and thinking how did he know this? I was totally freaked out by his comments and by now I realized that the siren was going, and we were driving towards Phoenixville like a "bat outta hell!" I felt the ambulance dodging cars as though we were on a slalom course. Seriously, we were all over the road. Now I was fearing for my life that I would even just get to the hospital alive, never mind all the other stuff.
I arrived in one peace and my briefs were not soiled so I counted myself lucky. They wheeled me in on a gurney - they had to move me and by this time the adrenaline had left my body, which left me very dizzy. (I know as you read this you are thinking "Bill you are already dizzy how could you tell?) (seriously - just stop!) I went into X-ray and thankfully nothing was broken, but it was decided that I would need stitches. While I was lying in the corridor in came my mother. She was very upset, until she realized I was not going to die on her. Now - THE worst moment of this entire mess occurred. I was lying there happy my mom had come to comfort her little boy during this tragic time. My mom pulls up this little brown bag, pulls out a pack of opened cigarettes, (They were Kent's) held them up to my face, and asked me what these were? Ok really mom - you smoke and you don't know what they are?? So I said, "Cigarettes." And then she asked whose they were, reminding me to be very careful how I answered this question. Before I could answer, (As I believe that it is true that when you are near death, your life passes before your eyes; I too was replaying my life) she said I found these on the front seat of the car. BUSTED!!!!!! So I fessed up and told her they were mine. She wanted to know for how long I had been smoking. I decided that telling her I started in 2nd grade was not going to make my life any easier, so I told her - Geez I don't even remember what I told her. Keep in mind this was 1974 so everyone was still mostly smoking. It was considered a dirty habit, but of course every member of my family smoked. I was not sure why my mom was so stunned that her youngest son was smoking.
After I my stitches were in place, it was time to go home. Sadly, I don't recall any of the trip home.
I was lying on the couch in our middle room, which was right next to the kitchen, when my father arrived home from work. It may not have been the first thing my mom said to my dad, but I promise it had to have been in the top three- "Guess what honey, your son smokes." My dad went off saying all kinds of embarrassing things about my smoking. It was such a huge barrage of comments, that I believe this was the moment I learned how to zone out when my parents were talking to me. As a result, I don't remember anything he said to me. It is also possible by now the pain killers were kicking in!
This event happened on a Friday I believe or maybe a Thursday, it is all kind of blur through this period. I recall being taken over to band camp and seeing everyone. Of course I was out of band camp for a few days. On Saturday, my brother Bob and his girlfriend came to our house to play cards. This was something we did frequently and always had fun. We were all sitting around the table having a nice time, when my brother went to light up. In a blink of an eye, my father looked at me and said, "Bill would you like a smoke?" Thus humiliating me in front of my brother and his girl friend. My brother looked at me and said, "You smoke?" Why was everyone in my whole "smoking" family so surprised by this epiphany? He asked, "If I wanted to smoke with everyone since now I was a smoker too?" I guess because I had been hiding my smoking for so long, it felt really awkward to smoke in front of them. I figured they would dissect my technique like they did with everything else I did. This "ribbing" went on for quite a while until I was tired of listening. I got up and left the table. I said I was tired and my face hurt. Of course my brother was quick to add, "Yea, it's killing me too!" I went into the middle room and reclined on the sofa.
Eventually I healed, but there is still a slight scar to remind me of that marvelous day. I did continue to smoke off and on up until 2002 when I lit up - took a drag - thought it was awful - and tossed it out the window. Sometimes I miss it, but then I think what it does to your body, and that gives me what little strength I actually need to not smoke. There is a picture of me in the 1975 year book with the band. I think Sandy is in it as well. Because I have one arm up and one down with an African knife in my hand, you can see the remnant of the scar from that fateful day.
You might be asking yourself, "What happened to the car." The car had belonged to my grandfather. He gave it to my mom (his daughter) because we needed a car. It was an old Falcon. I have no idea anymore what year it was, but I do know it was old. The front panel was the only visible damage, so we figured it would be fine. Turns out, the car was soooo old that I bent the frame when I hit the parked car. The car had to be junked. I was not permitted to drive a car for a very long time. I was back on the school bus, until a friend, and I don't remember who any more, started to pick me up. This made for a very long school year.
No comments:
Post a Comment