Humor

If the Brakes On Your Car Fail — Don’t Turn Around and Head Down a Hill

At 17 who makes good decisions — I certainly didn’t!

My first car was a 1958 used, 4-cylinder, manual-shift English Ford, which I bought for $600. It was small, cute, black, and easy to drive, but I knew nothing more than that. No one ever told me it was necessary to check my fluids occasionally, especially brake fluid.

Those were the days when cars didn’t make beeps or have blinking lights alerting us to low fluid levels, overheating water, or low air in tires.

Problems with the car

As I did every morning, I climbed the hill to go up and around the two roads that led to the main road, which we called the “horseshoe.” I hit the brake halfway through at the stop sign and realized I had no brakes.

Oh, sugar. Now, what do I do? I’d better head home and find my father.

I was able to turn around at the little crossroad and then head back down the hill to go home.

What?! Why did I do that? I have no brakes!

As I’m heading down the hill, realizing the position I just put myself in, I knew I had to slow myself down somehow. I started widening my turn as I was nearing the bottom so I could swing left to get back onto my road.

But there was no way to stop the car. I didn’t know at that time that I could have pulled up the hand break or downshifted, so I headed for the grassy section alongside the wooded area.

If I could just slow the car down enough to park in front of my house, I’d be safe.

That didn’t happen. The grass did slow the car down, but not enough. As I was approaching my house at an all-too-quick speed, I knew there was no way I’d be able to stop in time.

But if I kept going past my house, I’d be heading down the end of my road, which was another downward incline, and driving through rough cobblestones, which is why I never drove that way and chose to go around using the horseshoe.

Then, if I do manage to get to the end of the road and still can’t stop, I risk other cars on the main road coming from the left, and if they don’t hit me, I will be facing an even sharper hill downward toward the train trestle, picking up speed again.

There was only one object on the road that could possibly stop me — my father’s car.

There were only two other houses on the block at that time, and the owners’ cars were in their driveways, but my father’s was not. It was right out there on the road where he always kept it, opposite our house.

I had to do it — I had no choice. It was my only option.

I braced for impact and then drove directly into the back of my father’s car.

When he heard the crash, he came running out of the living room, where he and my mom slept on a pull-out sofa, and stood on the porch in his underwear, waving his arms and screaming at me.

That was a vision I will never forget!

When he finished yelling and gave me a chance to explain, he calmed down, but not until he inspected our cars. Luckily, I had slowed myself down enough to only smash our bumpers, which in those days were of a nice, strong metal, not like the cosmetic fiberglass ones of today.

He did commend me for using the grass to slow myself down and making the decision to face his wrath rather than risk my life.

Still, he never let me forget the incident — neither did I. He said he was sure he had told me to check my oil and brake fluid. If he did, I somehow missed it.

After that, I did check my oil, water, brake fluid, and windshield wiper fluid on a regular basis. That’s one mistake you only make once, if you’re lucky enough to find another car to smash into.

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