The Next Day
After returning home I went back to bed. I'm amazed now that I was able to go back to sleep. I had a huge mess to clean up in the morning.
The following morning Nick and I went to the service station in the heart of downtown Ooltewah. After explaining the situation we were told that since the mishap involved some damage to Mr. Longley's fence we would have to first notify the police of the incident before my truck could be recovered from the creek bed. The local police station was close by but they were closed. Remember where I am. There was a phone in a box connected to the wall just outside the entrance to the police department. Whoever it was I spoke to said an officer would be there presently to help us.
Sgt. Hannah soon arrived. I had a not altogether pleasant experience with Officer Hannah on a previous encounter I had with him. He didn't seem to recognize me. Based on our story he wasn't completely sure if my truck was within the city limits or not. He knew of Mr. Longley but explained that some of his property was in the county. He asked us to follow him over there. If the truck was in his jurisdiction he would handle the situation. If not he would call a county sheriffs deputy to the site. Since my truck was so far off the road Sgt. Hannah passed it. We stopped however and waited for him to double back. When he made it back he concluded that we were within the city limits so he would handle the situation.
In the light of day my poor truck looked much worse than it did last night. The driver's side front end was mashed against the side of creek's bank. I figured it was probably totalled. Nick climbed into the drivers seat and I was surprised to hear the motor start. Hmm, maybe there's some hope of getting my old truck back on the road.
Around this time old farmer Longley drove up to the crash site. To say he was old is an understatement. He looked like Yoda from the Star Wars movies dressed in bib overalls. He sounded, however, like Carl of Slingblade fame. Needless to say he was nearly completely deaf. Any vocal communication had to be shouted at him. He hobbled down to the truck and struck up a shouting match with Nick while I answered questions for Sgt. Hannah. The exchange between Mr. Longley and Nick was not heated. I guess Mr. Longley lived with the idea that everyone is as deaf as he is so consequently he shouted. To get Mr. Longley to hear, Nick had to shout back. At the time it was frustrating. As I write this a week later it's a bit comical to me.
From where I was standing I could hear a lot of "slow downs," "slick roads," and "sharp curves." Nick and Yoda, I mean Mr. Longley, came back to the roadside with me and Sgt. Hannah. Sgt. Hanah had questions for Nick so I got to shout at Farmer Longley.
"I wasn't too hard on your boy," he shouted in that Slingblade voice.
"I don't think you were," I said.
"What!"
"I DON'T THINK YOU WERE!"
I wasn't about to have a conversation with this guy like this. I decided I would nod or shake my head to keep from raising my voice.
"I've had hundreds of people lose control and end up in my pasture. Your boy is the only one who got so far in and walked out."
By this time Sgt. Hannah was done talking to Nick and had called the wrecker service where Nick and I began our morning. He asked Mr. Longley if he knew how much it would be to repair his fence. One hundred dollars was what he "reckoned" it would cost. I tried to tell him I would come by his place later to pay him. I'm not sure he heard me. Sgt. Hannah told me that I was lucky that he didn't want to call a fencing company and a landscaper for his yard. $100 was a deal under the circumstances. I agreed. He asked Nick to step away so he and I could talk.
"Why didn't you call us last night when the incident occurred?"
"It didn't occurr to me to call. The truck was well off the road. Mr. Longley wasn't available so we went home. If the service station man hadn't told me it was necessary I never would have called."
He went on to explain the finer points of the law and property damage. Oh well, my bad.
"I really don't have to write Nick a ticket under the circumstances but I think it would be valuable for him to attend defensive driving school."
I agreed.
"I have to write a ticket for him to go. The cost is $50 and when he's done the ticket is expunged and not made a part of his driving record. Prior to his appearance in court I'll speak with the judge and arrange a decent brow beating for Nick in open court."
Sgt. Hannah was prepared to allow your brother to walk away. I couldn't. It didn't seem right. I asked him to issue the ticket. On August 29, at 8:00 Nick has his day in court. I have to go with him.
The man we originally spoke to at the service station was the one who came to fish my truck out of the creek bed. His shirt said his name was Robert. As he went about the business of connecting chains and winching cables he told me he was a math teacher at the high school. He towed cars for the service station during the summers. Is this a small town or what? As Sgt. Hannah, Nick and I stood by we watched Robert the math teacher try to get my truck out of the creek bed. If you ever find yourself in a ditch understand in advance that the removal of your car from the ditch does as much damage to your vehicle as putting it there did. After about fifteen minutes of grinding gears and smoking winches Robert concluded that my truck was too firmly embedded in the creek bed to be removed with his wrecker.
"I'll be back in ten minutes with a different wrecker."
Sgt. Hannah took this opportunity to leave as well.
Robert returned with a different wrecker and again began the process of extracting my truck from the creek bed. The sound of straining metal and my undercarriage scraping the ground knotted my stomach. As the front end emerged from creek bed I saw that the front bumper was wrapped around a front tire, locking the wheels in a hard right turn. Both tires on the driver's side were flat. Now that the truck was out of the creek bed, I wondered how Robert would get the truck on the back of his wrecker with my front wheels locked in a right turn. I didn't have to consider the question long. He dragged it up into the bed of the wrecker. Ouch!
I instructed Robert to leave my truck in our driveway. The morning was disappearing and I had to make it to church.
More Later.........
The following morning Nick and I went to the service station in the heart of downtown Ooltewah. After explaining the situation we were told that since the mishap involved some damage to Mr. Longley's fence we would have to first notify the police of the incident before my truck could be recovered from the creek bed. The local police station was close by but they were closed. Remember where I am. There was a phone in a box connected to the wall just outside the entrance to the police department. Whoever it was I spoke to said an officer would be there presently to help us.
Sgt. Hannah soon arrived. I had a not altogether pleasant experience with Officer Hannah on a previous encounter I had with him. He didn't seem to recognize me. Based on our story he wasn't completely sure if my truck was within the city limits or not. He knew of Mr. Longley but explained that some of his property was in the county. He asked us to follow him over there. If the truck was in his jurisdiction he would handle the situation. If not he would call a county sheriffs deputy to the site. Since my truck was so far off the road Sgt. Hannah passed it. We stopped however and waited for him to double back. When he made it back he concluded that we were within the city limits so he would handle the situation.
In the light of day my poor truck looked much worse than it did last night. The driver's side front end was mashed against the side of creek's bank. I figured it was probably totalled. Nick climbed into the drivers seat and I was surprised to hear the motor start. Hmm, maybe there's some hope of getting my old truck back on the road.
Around this time old farmer Longley drove up to the crash site. To say he was old is an understatement. He looked like Yoda from the Star Wars movies dressed in bib overalls. He sounded, however, like Carl of Slingblade fame. Needless to say he was nearly completely deaf. Any vocal communication had to be shouted at him. He hobbled down to the truck and struck up a shouting match with Nick while I answered questions for Sgt. Hannah. The exchange between Mr. Longley and Nick was not heated. I guess Mr. Longley lived with the idea that everyone is as deaf as he is so consequently he shouted. To get Mr. Longley to hear, Nick had to shout back. At the time it was frustrating. As I write this a week later it's a bit comical to me.
From where I was standing I could hear a lot of "slow downs," "slick roads," and "sharp curves." Nick and Yoda, I mean Mr. Longley, came back to the roadside with me and Sgt. Hannah. Sgt. Hanah had questions for Nick so I got to shout at Farmer Longley.
"I wasn't too hard on your boy," he shouted in that Slingblade voice.
"I don't think you were," I said.
"What!"
"I DON'T THINK YOU WERE!"
I wasn't about to have a conversation with this guy like this. I decided I would nod or shake my head to keep from raising my voice.
"I've had hundreds of people lose control and end up in my pasture. Your boy is the only one who got so far in and walked out."
By this time Sgt. Hannah was done talking to Nick and had called the wrecker service where Nick and I began our morning. He asked Mr. Longley if he knew how much it would be to repair his fence. One hundred dollars was what he "reckoned" it would cost. I tried to tell him I would come by his place later to pay him. I'm not sure he heard me. Sgt. Hannah told me that I was lucky that he didn't want to call a fencing company and a landscaper for his yard. $100 was a deal under the circumstances. I agreed. He asked Nick to step away so he and I could talk.
"Why didn't you call us last night when the incident occurred?"
"It didn't occurr to me to call. The truck was well off the road. Mr. Longley wasn't available so we went home. If the service station man hadn't told me it was necessary I never would have called."
He went on to explain the finer points of the law and property damage. Oh well, my bad.
"I really don't have to write Nick a ticket under the circumstances but I think it would be valuable for him to attend defensive driving school."
I agreed.
"I have to write a ticket for him to go. The cost is $50 and when he's done the ticket is expunged and not made a part of his driving record. Prior to his appearance in court I'll speak with the judge and arrange a decent brow beating for Nick in open court."
Sgt. Hannah was prepared to allow your brother to walk away. I couldn't. It didn't seem right. I asked him to issue the ticket. On August 29, at 8:00 Nick has his day in court. I have to go with him.
The man we originally spoke to at the service station was the one who came to fish my truck out of the creek bed. His shirt said his name was Robert. As he went about the business of connecting chains and winching cables he told me he was a math teacher at the high school. He towed cars for the service station during the summers. Is this a small town or what? As Sgt. Hannah, Nick and I stood by we watched Robert the math teacher try to get my truck out of the creek bed. If you ever find yourself in a ditch understand in advance that the removal of your car from the ditch does as much damage to your vehicle as putting it there did. After about fifteen minutes of grinding gears and smoking winches Robert concluded that my truck was too firmly embedded in the creek bed to be removed with his wrecker.
"I'll be back in ten minutes with a different wrecker."
Sgt. Hannah took this opportunity to leave as well.
Robert returned with a different wrecker and again began the process of extracting my truck from the creek bed. The sound of straining metal and my undercarriage scraping the ground knotted my stomach. As the front end emerged from creek bed I saw that the front bumper was wrapped around a front tire, locking the wheels in a hard right turn. Both tires on the driver's side were flat. Now that the truck was out of the creek bed, I wondered how Robert would get the truck on the back of his wrecker with my front wheels locked in a right turn. I didn't have to consider the question long. He dragged it up into the bed of the wrecker. Ouch!
I instructed Robert to leave my truck in our driveway. The morning was disappearing and I had to make it to church.
More Later.........
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