the Walnut Diary

My first car was a $100 1960 VW Beetle with three working brakes. I very much enjoyed its challenges and I learned to drive it in all seasons without killing myself or my passengers.

The hairiest adventure with “Herbie” came when my friends and I borrowed a ski-tow rope from a fellow and set out to ski on the local frozen lake. There was a good base of frozen snow over abundant ice, so it came down to who had the nerve to try my recently-acquired boots and skis. My friend Don Goodfellow drove, John Wing rode shotgun, and I started off behind.

I had had one lesson on a ski hill so I was the expert, but turning behind a tow vehicle seemed different than snowplowing on the slope. I discovered as Don worked up to third gear — the VW’s fastest on snow — that by bracing myself against the skis I could make the rear wheels of the car skid a little bit. This was fun, so I tried swinging up by the passenger’s door, and then around to the driver’s.

Just as I was making a face at Don and trying to yank the Bug into a spin, the rope broke. I slid sideways on those steel edges for a long, long time before halting, arches crushed from the vibration.

Unsurprisingly, nobody else wanted to try the skis.