Matt’s Crown Vic

Crown Victoria First CarThe first car that I truly loved was my Crown Victoria retired police car. I fell for its size, power and of course, the fact that everyone always thought I was a cop pulling up behind them and slow way down. Having purchased it from a friend in the spring, I had no idea of the nightmare that would follow when winter hit the Boston area.

The first winter storm of the year was not a big deal; the first snowfall—not a problem. I drove slowly, and slid around a little bit a couple of times, which is nothing unusual for a Boston driver.

The next winter storm was, well, just not fun. It had really started to snow as I was getting out of work. I left the parking lot around 4 or 5 pm, after cleaning 6 inches of snow off the windows. As I drove slowly home to my parent’s house where I was living at the time, I was looking forward to my company Christmas party that night.

As I approached the final hill toward home, I began to think the rear wheel drive car might have a hard time on the giant hill that I lived on, so I began to speed up a bit. About halfway up the hill, she began to lose traction, so I attempted a 3–point turn, which turned into a 10–point turn with smoking tires.

I decided upon a longer, somewhat flatter approach home. After a right and then another right I found myself stuck in a snowbank, but I was able to gun my way out of it, backing up. I then tried it again, and got stuck about 20 feet further up from the last spot. This time I got stuck pretty good. The guy that lived right there saw me struggling, offered me his shovel and I started digging.

I made good headway and got some traction. I put her in drive and put myself right back into the bank, even deeper. At this point, I decided to walk up to my house and get my dad’s 4–wheel drive truck and tow my car home with it.

I got the truck, brought it down to my car, and tied my car to the front hooks on the truck, but there was not enough traction and I just banked the truck. Then a plow came along. He offered to tow me out and I was very happy about that. He towed me to the end of my street, and let me go. I thanked him, but then looked ahead one more block and wondered why the hell I didn’t just ask him to tow me all the way home.

I got back in and slid the car into another bank, but, I gunned it and slid back down the first bad hill that I was trying to avoid. I then went another route, which was even farther out of the way but was the flattest route possible, and would have me approaching my street from the top of the hill instead of the bottom. The party was going to start in one hour and I still had just enough time to get there.

I then drove to a set of lights that I had to make a right turn onto a very slight hill. That failed and I had to back up 4 times to try to get to it, but my timing for not running the light and dealing with other cars was getting tricky. Finally I just went for it.

I got to the top of the first big hill, which was almost where I wanted to get. Now all that was left was the fateful last left hand turn. I drove down the hill about 100 feet to the turn and went gently, banked it, gunned out and drove back down the bad hill and around again, and blew off the light again.

Now I was starting to get upset. I now only had 15 minutes to get to this party. I re–approached from the top of the hill, then took the left turn again, and banked it. One last final try, and banked it about 20 feet from the driveway. I said the hell with it. I got into my dad’s truck and went to the party, that in the end was not much fun.

I then drove uneventfully back home, but as I came in view of my car stuck in the snow bank, twenty feet from my driveway, I also found a town tow truck there. I said “Hi.” and they said, “Move it or it gets towed.”

I asked how much it would cost to have them tow it to my driveway, and when they told me what it was, I said they would have to keep the car for that price. They drove off, threatening that they would be back.

I then saw a police car looking coming down the big hill and spotted the tire chains they had on their Crown Vic. I went up and asked to borrow them for a moment. They said no, and told me that I had to move my car or it would be towed. At this point, I was just about totally pissed off.

I got out the shovel again, and started to dig, but it was late, and I was so tired that I was just about to give up. I then turned to the dreaded last possible option: I woke my parents up, and got them out of bed and told them what was going on. My parents bundled up, and came outside with me and we used my dad’s truck to push the car into the driveway. They saved me from losing my car.

I bought a pick–up for my next car.

Matthew Keats

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