Chapter 12  (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

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Sudden Change of Plans

It had been a colder than usual winter in Southern California and we had quite a bit of snow in the San Bernardino mountains.

When I arrived at work one January morning I was told that I wouldn't be going out to do any sign work that day because I was needed to fill in for the manager of our Big Bear Lake store, who needed to be gone for two days.

They gave me a company car, along with directions on how to get to Big Bear Lake, and told me to get there as soon as possible. The regular manager had already left town, and the crew was working without a manager—something the Cornet brothers didn't like to have happening.

It never occurred to me that Big Bear Lake might be snowbound and that I knew nothing about driving in the snow. But as I got about half way up the mountain I began to see traces of snow on the ground and noticed that several of the other vehicles had chains on their rear tires.

Suddenly I began to see signs saying that chains may be needed for those continuing up the hill. However, the pavement was clear and there were no roadblocks of any kind.

So I kept driving.

But as I pulled into Big Bear Lake Village, I was in for an unpleasant surprise. The streets were covered with ice.

Our store was located on a picturesque street that had a couple of blocks of shops and boutiques with a raised divider separating the two lanes of the main avenue. Cars were parked at a 45-degree angle in front of the shops on both sides of the divider.

All the spaces on the Cornet side of the street were taken, so I had to go down to the end of the divider, circle around it, and head back in the opposite direction, where a single space waited for me to pull into it.

Well, heading toward the turning point I had no trouble handling the car—but as I tried to negotiate the 90-degree turn at the end of the divider, I learned what happens when you drive on ice with no chains.

The car simply hydroplaned around the bend and went sideways into the rear of a parked car. I hit the other car's rear bumper at a 45-degree angle that put a lovely dent in my right rear door, but did no perceptible damage to the parked car.

At this point several people ran over and offered to help guide my car manually into the one available parking space, which inclined downhill toward the sidewalk at an angle that was sure to keep the car anchored against the curb.

As I got out and thanked the good Samaritans, several pointed out that I had better not try to back out of the parking space without tire chains. When I said I had none, they pointed to an auto parts store, and said that I'd better get a set before they sold out of them.

Well, I had a company credit card, so I went and bought a set of tire chains. When I asked if I could pay somebody to install them (I hadn't a clue as to how that was done) they said no one was available—but that it wasn't all that hard to do. Ha!

I decided to put the chains in the car's trunk and go across the street to Cornet and introduce myself. I was greeted by a friendly crew who assured me that all was going well, and that I had better find myself a place to stay. They said the good skiing weather had pretty well filled all the local inns.

So I left and hiked from one hotel/motel to another, trying to find a vacancy. The best I was offered was a broom closet in one of the small hotels. (I am not kidding! It was actually a broom closet with a folding cot for a bed.)

When they heard that I would be staying over for only one night, they allowed as to how the closet might be okay for me. So I took it.

By now it was late afternoon, and I still hadn't put in any time at the store I was supposed to be substitute-managing. When I finally did get into the store, the crew told me I should spend the rest of the day getting some dinner and making myself as comfortable as possible in my "room." I was also admonished to drain my car's radiator so that it wouldn't freeze and crack during the night.

This was in the days when "anti-freeze" was comparatively new, and when many folks used plain water in their radiators. Since I hadn't a clue as to what was in my radiator, one of the clerks offered to cross the street and show me how to drain it.

Well, it snowed that night and it was not easy for me to walk from my "hotel room" to the store the next morning—but I finally stumbled in, shivering all the way. It had never occurred to me to bring any "winter clothing" on this trip.

After all, this is Southern California!

Again the crew told me that, instead of spending time in the store, I should get the chains on my car and have everything ready for driving back to Pasadena that night, since the regular manager would be back the following morning.

(Continued in Next Column)

Tried to Install Tire Chains

So I went and jacked up the left rear of my car and tried valiantly to get a set of chains onto one tire. A few people noticed I was having problems, and one young fellow stopped to offer some help.

Well, he got the tire chained in a matter of a few minutes. When I asked if he could help me do the other tire, he said he had to be going, but that I should be able to manage with one tire chain for a couple of blocks, where I could get the job finished at a local gas station.

However, no matter how hard I tried, I could not back out of that inclined parking space. I kept gunning the engine, and could see black smoke emanating from my tail pipe. Finally, three or four people stopped and offered to push the car away from the curb, as I continued to try and get the chained tire to grab the pavement.

We finally succeeded and I was just barely able to guide the car into the gas station a couple of blocks away. I needed gas anyway, so I stopped alongside of a pump.

As an attendant approached the car, I got out and asked if he could install the other chain. Yes, he could for $10. At that point, this was a bargain I could not turn down.

When he raised the hood to check the radiator, a cloud of steam made him quickly back away.

"I think your radiator may be empty," he said.

"Yes, it is," I proudly replied. "I drained it last night."

"You're driving with an empty radiator?" he asked, incredulously.

Sensing that this might not have been the right thing to do, I said, "Well, for just a couple of blocks."

"Well, if you had gone any farther," he said, "you would have cracked the block and needed a new engine."

"Really?" I asked. Then, to further prove my ignorance of anything automotive, I said, "I thought the cold weather would be enough to keep the engine cooled."

The man just shook his head in disbelief, as he filled my radiator and gas tank and got the other chain installed.

"If you're headed back down the hill," he said, "be extra careful. Those chains are no guarantee that you'll have full control over your driving."

"Yes, sir!" I replied. "I will be extra careful and take no chances of any kind!"

The attendant just grunted, as he turned and walked toward his tiny office, slowly shaking his head all the way.

Well, I made it back to Pasadena without any further damage to the car, but I narrowly missed a head-on collision on the way.

The road back down the mountain was wet, but I encountered no snow or ice. And the chains made it possible for me to negotiate it all with a minimum amount of trouble.

As for that near miss, here's what happened: I had crested a high point on the road and could see that I would be descending at a steep angle before starting up an equally steep slope on the other side of the valley. At the bottom of the valley I could see a car parked in the oncoming lane with nobody in it.

It was obvious that someone got stuck there and had abandoned the car. "No problem," I thought, "my side of the road is clear."

That's when I saw another car coming over the opposite hill and headed straight toward the stalled vehicle.

Well, it was easy to see that at his speed and at my speed, we were going to arrive at the bottom of the valley at the exact same moment—right where the abandoned car sat waiting for us.

Trying to brake was nearly useless because of the wet pavement. The chains did allow me to slow down a little—but not enough to avoid arriving alongside the stuck vehicle at the same time the other car, which had no chains, would be hitting it from the rear. And there was no shoulder available to either us, as piled-up snow kept us in our respective lanes.

All I could do was sit and watch as the other car slid down his hill at about 40 MPH and smashed right into the back of the stalled car, as I went on past and started up the opposite hill. Nor was there any way I could stop and return to offer help.

However, since this was the main road to Big Bear Lake, I felt sure somebody would be along soon who could somehow stop and help.

What we would have given for cell phones in those days!

So the bottom of line of this little adventure was: two days spent dealing with the weather, denting the company car, nearly ruining its engine, buying some chains that would probably never be used again, and spending no time at all in the store I was supposed to be managing.

Joe Cornet Jr. was not pleased—but could offer no suggestions as to what I could have done differently.

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Don Edrington's Home Page     Shy Guy from Hollywood High     Brief Bio   All Stories

Ch.1 Alameda - Los Angeles 1939-40   Ch.2 Echo Park 1943   Ch.3 Virgil Jr Hi 1944   Ch.4 Le Conte Jr Hi 1945-46   Ch.5 Gower Gulch 1946
Ch.6 Hollywood Hi 1946-47   Ch.7 Drop Out 1948   Ch 8 Norma Jean Salina 1948   Ch 9 Fort Ord 1949   Ch.10 Fort Belvoir 1950
Ch.11 Korea 1951   Ch.12 Back to Civilian Life 1952   Ch.13 Cornet Stores 1953   Ch.14 Puerto Rico 1955   Ch 15 Signs by George 1956
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