Sorry to blast the list with an off topic e-mail but Paul's e-mail stuck
a sensitive memory and I'm in a writing mood.
>Apparently they thought our transporter resembled a stolen one they were
>after.
Fast reverse back to early fall of 1965.
I was a very "sheltered" 19 year old college freshman driving home from a
day at the beach with my dog for company. My dog was a black Lab, great
dane cross. I was driving my first car, a two tone, turquoise and white
1955 Ford four door that my Dad had given me for my 18th birthday.
I was driving along in fairly heavy beach traffic and passed a large
number of police cars parked across the street. All of a sudden a
police car forced itself into the space between me and the car ahead and
jammed on it's brakes forcing me to stop. Another police car came to a
quick stop right behind me and three across the street. Everyone jumped
out of their cars & went behind them.
An officer from the car in front walked back to me with his hand on his
holstered pistol telling me to keep both hands high on the steering wheel
where he could see them.
My dog (Named "Dog") picked up something was not right and stuck head
head out the rear side window & started his "fierce" bark. When the
officer got close enough to look in the front window he told me to
control my dog and get him out of the window. I turned around to grab
Dog and saw a second officer standing at my passenger side rear quarter
with a shot gun leveled. They made a quick look then explained that
there was a recent armed robbery in the town behind me that I had
recently driven through and the get away car was a two tone mid fifties
Ford driven by a woman.
It was an effective way to traumatize a "sheltered" teenage girl for life.
Dang another synapse response.
Fast Forward to 1968.
I was driving in the Santa Cruz mountains a little South of San
Francisco. I was in the same '55 Ford and I was driving down a very
narrow windy road on the dry rain shadow side of the mountains (Lots of
chaparral and some scrub oak). I hit the brakes to slow down for a
corner and suddenly lost all hydraulic pressure. I quickly pulled the
emergency brake but it was not slowing me down on the steep grade. I made
that corner but was coming up on a tight "u" bend. The car had an
automatic transmission (my first and last). I downshifted but it
downshift would not engage at that speed. I killed the engine. I was
still picking up speed and knew the car would not make the curve on four
wheels. At the apex of the curve there was a flat area that went out to
the edge of the ridge then down at a very steep almost cliff like angle.
It had a dirt parking area about 20 feet long where people tended to park
for the evening and look at the valley lights down below. On each side
was thick chaparral.
Knowing that I could not make the curve without rolling the car over the
cliff I put the car into the chaparral. The chaparral and more level
ground was slowing my car but not quite enough. I moved over so the
driver's door was in the dirt area and most of the car still in the
chaparral. Just before the cliff I opened the door and bailed out doing
my best James Dean imitation. I remembered when I stopped rolling I
looked over just in time to see the rear tail lights and bumper disappear
from view down the hill.
That was my last sight of my first car. It probably has something to do
with my Land Rover being converted to a dual brake system and my TR3
having stainless steel brake lines.
TeriAnn Wakeman If you send me direct mail, please
Santa Cruz, California start the subject line with TW -
twakeman@cruzers.com I will be sure to read the message
http://www.shadow-catcher.net <- Photography for sale
http://www.overlander.net <- Web directory for Land Rover
http://www.cruzers.com/~twakeman <- My personal web site
"How can life grant us the boon of living..unless we dare"
Amelia Earhart 1898-1937
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