Icy hill puts the chill in my wheels
The only thing bigger than the male ego is the size of the universe. Just ask any guy, and that fellow’s wife or girlfriend.
On occasion, however, that ego can be crushed to the size of the period that ends this sentence.
Such was the case last Friday morning.
I had just dropped my daughters, Marcie and MaKayla, off at the sitter’s house just off Lickford Bridge Road.
I had been warned that Rocky Hollow Road, where the sitter resides, was ‘pretty slick,’ but when I arrived things didn’t look too bad.
A road grader had obviously been through, and I could see patches of asphalt between what proved to be even bigger patches of ice.
Backing out was no problem. Gravity, however, had its way with my 4-wheel driveless-Explorer (it actually has it, but it’s not working) and I was sent sliding backwards down a small grade in front of the sitter’s house.
The next hour was spent trying to get up enough momentum to reach the top of the hill. Each 20-foot advancement was countered by a 25-foot retreat, then doing a controlled backwards slide the rest of the way to the bottom.
If Explorer Reverse Bobsledding ever becomes an Olympic event, I’m a sure-fire gold medalist.
I tried every trick in the book: hammering the gas; letting the car idle up the hill; go as far as I could until my wheels lost traction, then try to inch forward; drive on the shoulder to try to keep traction.
Nothing worked. Nothing, that is, until I saw the slow, leisurely blink of a bright yellow light atop a Harrison Co. Highway Dept. grader.
The gentleman, who I give an 8.5 for his own slide down the hill, made his way to my all-too-familiar starting point: ‘I’ll try to clear some of this off for you,’ the man said.
And off he went, tossing leaves, sticks, mud, snow and ice on the road. At first, I thought the fellow was a nincompoop. My definition of ‘clearing off’ would have been to scrape away the ice.
But after starting up the slope, it hit me that Grader Man was wiser than I: he was providing traction with the newfound debris.
The first couple of attempts to defy gravity were futile. A couple of more passes by the grader, however, got me almost to the top.
Going above and beyond the call of duty, Grader Man climbed from his machine and pushed my Explorer the rest of the way.
As soon as I made it back onto Lickford Bridge, I had to give a heartfelt thanks to the man who had saved me from Hell Hill.
After a sincere thanks and a handshake, I asked the man his name.
‘Alvin Greer,’ he said.
‘Are you any relation to Megan Greer?’ I asked, thinking of the sharp-shooting senior guard from Corydon Central.
The man scratched his head for a moment and chuckled. ‘Yeah, she’s my daughter.’
‘Small world,’ I said, before describing how I knew Megan.
We shared a couple of laughs before I thanked him for his help. He promised to tell Megan of our meeting (gee, thanks), and then thanked me for the coverage of Corydon’s girls basketball team.
As much as I appreciated finally meeting Megan’s father, hopefully another encounter with Alvin Greer won’t be under the same slippery circumstances.