Dead Man's Hill - 4 - The end

February 25, 2010

I had a very difficult time seeing where we were headed. Gary and Sal were screaming at the top of their lungs that I should maybe try a little braking just to slow us down a little bit. Sal was of course screaming the loudest because he was perched precariously on the top of this monster X. Gary safe inside yelled out to Sal not to jump off or for sure he’ll break every bone in his eyes, nose ‘n throat.

As the driver of chance, I quickly took mmy eyes off the road while looking up at the top of our plywood cab to see Sal’s fingers appear like they were becoming part of and melting into the plywood. At this time I wasn’t screaming to high heaven like they were because I was the steerer-driver and in full speed control.

Like Mario Andretti, Jimmy Johnson, that guy with the nice feathers in his cowboy hat and even Danica Patrick all rolled into one, I was without a doubt going to win this Fourth of July 500 miler with just one lap to go. No one was going to cut mme off or pull ahead at the very last minute because I was faster than a speeding bullet but not disguised as Clark Kent. I was the great Andretti for sure.

By this time Sal was screaming so loud for mme to pull over but I couldn’t because that’s where all the parked cars were. A little further to the left and we were almost in the middle of the street. I had enough sense about mme to be aware that just by chance someone may open the driver’s side door of any number of parked cars. I yelled that caution to Sal but I’mm not sure he heard.

I yelled that to Sal again but he didn’t care; he said his hands were about to fall off or he was trying not to let go; I think he said; and again reiterated he just couldn’t hold on any longer. It was definitely a bumpy ride. On the roof Gary and I could hear Sal plopping up, down and sideways while screaming – HELP!

Gary of course encouraged him not to let go while passing along in screaming tones that if he did he’d really be sorry. “Just hang on Sal, we’re almost there,” was Gary’s next bit of sagely advice. He tapped mme on the shoulder and began to laugh uncontrollably. This made Sal scream even more and even louder.

When I looked past Gary and out the back window/door Sal’s legs were flailing like two dead seals caught on the end of a whale boat’s hook. He had only one shoe on. When I yelled this to Gary, Sal in his panic tones said that same shoe fell off just about the time he jumped on the top before this Luge - type run began.

I yelled to Gary that after we stop we should wait for Sal to go back and retrieve his shoe or his parents would be real angry if he didn’t. Gary didn’t care, he said; just turn around and watch where we’re going or I’mm gonna kill us all; poor Sal

Needless to say he was right. As soon as I turned back around one of those parked cars driver’s side doors opened out. I had just enough time to react. I turned the wheel slightly towards the center of the street thereby missing that door by a millimeter or less. The thickness of the paint probably made the difference I said while correcting the wheel again; this time to the right thereby missing an oncoming bus full of passengers watching with mouths wide open.

I then quickly looked back to witness Sal’s flailing right leg hit the guy getting out square in the stomach as we passed him like lightning in a tornado. The guy doubled over while shaking his fist exclaiming something about our mothers as he slowly fell; knees down to the pavement. I thought we were leaving a trail of destruction even our hero mr. X would be proud to witness. We raced onward.

“Luckily the leg that Sal smashed him with was the one without the shoe. He’ll be alright. I just hope he’s not still there when Sal goes to get his shoe,” I screamed. Gary said he didn’t care again, just as long as we don’t crash. As soon as he said that I immediately thought to apply the brakes ever so gently in order to slow us down; but not too much. I squeezed the pedal down with confidence.

As soon as I did the brake cable broke and now Gary started to scream too… and right in mmy ear! Now we were at top speed. Chuck Yeager’s X-15 had nothing on us except he was in space and we were down here on earth with Clove Road traffic. Like the racing pro I thought I had become I yelled to Gary that now it was up to him to stop us. Sal heard this and began to curse in between his yells.

I’d say what they were but I’mm not sure what words were coming out of his dirty mouth. All I can remember is that truck drivers and demented, crazy people couldn’t understand him either. What we and everyone would know is that he was definitely freaked out from almost slipping off the top of the cab ride.

Remember the brake lever you’re supposed to pull in these kinds of emergencies I yelled to Gary. Whereupon Gary grabbed the thing and with as much muscle as he could muster, pulled back with all his might. The wooden lever broke in Gary’s two clasped hands. WOW! I yelled; he should have pulled just a little at a time because we were facing the horrendous speed faster with no brakes at all.

Sal didn’t hear this because that’s when he yelled for Gary to pull the extra lever emergency brake and for mme to pull over to the right as we slowed down. I said we couldn’t slow down at all nor pull to the right because the extra brake lever was now broken in Gary’s hands. Sal didn’t hear this above Gary’s screams.

I then begged Sal to hold on; the entrance to the park’s driveway was coming up in a few seconds. I was gonna make as wide a right turn as possible in order not to turn over which I explained in a panic would make Sal some kind of version of mince meat as he would roll on the hard pavement and maybe crack his skull.

I yelled to the boys that when I count three or they felt us turning, to lean to the right. That may help the overcompensated turn and maybe prevent us from crashing and turning on X’s left side. They were mostly in panic mode but I was making the final turn for us to win the 500 and no one was even coming close.

Looking ahead we all thanked the heavens that there was absolutely no other human in sight; no pregnant women with kids; no strollers in the way or anything so frightening as even two dogs would be. Even senior citizens were no where to be seen. It was our turn for some luck and here it was. We held on hard.

I looked ahead at the fast approaching cross streets that at this time of day were busy with traffic streaming and speeding back and forth from left to right, right to left. Instead of the dreaded turn, for a split second I thought to take a chance on a green light but in the next millisecond I said hooooooooold oooooooon booooooooys herrrrrrrre we goooooooo!!! ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEE!!!....

Luckily in those days the good ‘ol park department crews were always on top of it with their proud versions of manicured lawns, trimmed trees, bushes, beautiful gardens, clean ponds and clear sidewalks. When I turned into the slight incline up the very wide driveway it was more than enough to knock Sal off the roof.

Gary and I both heard him scream like we’ve never heard him scream before. X got lighter as Gary and I leaned towards the right as much and as hard as we could but monster X was going so fast that her right front and back wheel kept lifting up and up and up as we tried to make the fast turn without any damage to X or most importantly to ourselves. Our monster X was about to flip over.

As hard as we tried for a safe landing, it wasn’t to be. Monster X’s new Soap Box Derby wheels gave way and began to bend out of shape with all the weight and I’mm sure an inordinate amount of centrifugal force. The sounds were deadly.

Gary and I both yelled in fear of death as monster X finally tipped over on its side while leaving the asphalt and headed to a meadow while chasing a few very scared and scurrying squirrels. X slid another twenty or thirty feet on the grass. Gary and I pushed our faces to the plywood floor which was now really a wall, in hopes of not breaking any bones, heads, lips or teeth. Time was in slow motion

The plywood monster made crunching sounds the whole way and abruptly came to a full stop that jerked both riders miraculously through the front window and on to a nice green meadow landing. We lay there laughing really hard while yelling for Sal and at the same time wanting to be sure that we were actually in one piece each. We had small cuts, bruises and green stained clothes.

Half a minute later Sal came hobbling up to us with torn pants and blood on one cheek. Other than that he said he was in great shape. All at once we yelled and screamed each and every occurrence from when we first began rolling down the hill to our fateful and non- serious medical inducing landing. We were ecstatic.

Sal gave us his view from the top and we gave him our view from the inside. This euphoria lasted for a good fifteen minutes until walking back to monster X. Slowly we examined around the scratched, dented and frayed at the edges mess.

We decided that all monster X needed really were some new wheels, new brakes that would work next time and a new white paint job. White because we thought the angels must have saved us from a fate worse then our parents could dish out.
We all agreed that we’d paint a big black X on our car. We’d not abandon hero’s.

We could also live with the dents as they would show our experience in several crashing and survival techniques that we promised ourselves we’d spread the tale of our own Dead Man’s Hill by writing it down some day; OK-Gary and Sal?

Post Script.

This ride was not on the real Dead Man’s Hill; but it was this experience that far surpassed anything we’ve ever encountered on that little slant with a bend. One day I’ll write about that particular hill. The one that was really called Dead Man’s Hill and the one where many times we all were champions.