Soft spots in the road

Editor’s Note: The following column originally ran in the Feb. 26, 2004 edition of the Daily Mail.

We live on a crushed rock road about one and a half miles from the highway. Even though the township maintains it and new gravel is spread on it fairly often, there are definite places where the tires of a car will sink in deeper and even swerve a little from side to side.

Each of these places where this happens awakens a memory for me of times we traveled this road when I was a child, before anyone ever considered putting rock on the road.

During the dry summers we had very few problems getting into town anytime we wanted to. But when one of the welcome thunderstorms came, we knew there were certain spots that we had to be very cautious about. Between the two hills near the highway there was always a hazard. The driver learned to maintain a steady speed and not hesitate at all. If any momentum was lost, the wheels would sink in the mud. Sometimes a back and forth motion of the car, either by using the gears and engine, or by human power pushing the sides, would allow the car to proceed. Then the driver would have to wait at the top of the hill for those who had done the pushing to catch up. Since they would have shed their shoes before getting out to push, the walk up the hill with mud caking around their bare feet wasn’t too pleasant. However, if the car stopped any sooner the whole process would need to be repeated. Then there was the problem of getting into the car with those muddy feet! Another spot on the long slow incline of the road could also be a mud trap. I remember once when we were bringing home a quart of ice cream along with the other groceries, we had safely passed the bottom of the hill’s muddy spot and thought we were safely on our way to enjoying the treat. (When we bought ice cream we had to eat it as soon as we got home because our icebox couldn’t keep it frozen.)

We were making good progress up the slight hill when the car began to slip sideways into a rut that a previous driver had left. Vernon was driving and kept his foot on the gas hoping to keep on going while in the rut. It didn’t work. Both brothers got out to push leaving 12-year-old Ellen at the steering wheel while I cheered them on from the back seat. Their pushing didn’t do the trick and there was nothing they could do but walk the mile home to get the tractor to pull us out. We knew the ice cream would not wait in the July heat for that long. So, in spite of the rest of the family waiting at home to share the treat, the four of us proceeded to eat the quart of ice cream using torn off pieces of the lid as spoons. Ellen and I waited in the car while the boys walked for help. I think it was a more pleasant memory for us than for our brothers.

This week with the remains of the snow melted into the gravel, the nighttime freezes and the daytime thaws, this road has again pointed out to each driver that there are spots to avoid, and other spots where more caution needs to be taken.

As I drive past these places I wonder if my early experiences on these same soft spots have made me a better driver. And I also wonder if any of the many other treacherous paths I have traveled in my life have prepared me to keep my speed up, avoid the ruts and not to assume that even if I have passed the worst spots that there aren’t other pitfalls awaiting me down the road.