The “Good” Old Days….

Do troopers find themselves in crazy circumstances when the snow flies? Sure we do. We are human, tend to over drive the conditions when called to an emergency, and err in judgement while working. Occasionally, these errors result in tragedy, but most of the time we are able to laugh about them as we drink coffee in front of the fire, years later.

The year was 1978, and my cruiser was a mammoth, gray Mercury interceptor that would run like the wind but, like a freight train, required a lot of real estate to stop. I had just picked up a probationary officer and turned out onto Interstate 70 to begin our day. It was snowing, but the highway was wet, not snow packed. We were called to a fatality 30 miles west of us and I gunned the big Merc and we were off. Wary of the conditions, I throttled back to 70 or so, when the road turned to ice at a crossover marking the turn around for the Highway Department salt shakers at the end of their district. The road went from wet to ice instantly and the Merc wobbled a bit and left the road, down a steep snow covered embankment, coming to rest between I-70 and the outer road. Miraculously, a tow truck saw my Joey Chitwood maneuver and swung around, quickly extricating us and we proceeded to the accident. When the Merc came to rest, my wild eyed probationary officer, asked if he could get out of the car for a smoke. In a calm voice, I told the officer (Trp. Brad Baker) he could. Truthfully, I have never smoked in my life, but felt the urge out of embarrassment. (I didn’t light up). I carefully explained to Brad, that this circumstance was NOT how you responded to a crash. He agreed. Soon, my police “friends” from Odessa, put a nicely lettered sign on the Interstate, noting this location was reserved for 641 parking only.

Another snow storm found me running low on fuel and I chose the outer road to get to the weight station for petrol. The steep entrance was covered in a deep snow drift that I thought I could “power through”. I didn’t make it and found myself hopelessly stuck. In my best radio voice, I requested a tow truck to help a “motorist” stuck in a snow drift. The radio operator answered my initial call, waited a bit, and asked “how bad are you stuck”. I have no idea to this day how he knew, but the whole troop knew I had ditched my cruiser behind the scales. I paid for my lack of judgement in snide remarks from my contemporaries for some time.

The snow of yesteryear delivered many events that were not humerous. On one occasion another probationary officer (Tpr. Bob Bloomberg) was with me when we were called to a suicide in a small trailer outside of town. The snow was flying and it was unbearably cold. It was messy but we worked it, wrapped in image armor, as the circumstances were terrible. I recall a snowy night, colder than a well diggers butt in January, I was called to an assault at another trailer where an intoxicated man tried to get in the door and was met by his wife with a paring knife. She filleted his hands as he tried to beat her and the blood he lost stood in stark contrast to the snow in the yard. In a true tragedy, a rather large man drove off the road in heavy snow, and slid into a box culvert, upside down. We could not see the car, as it was snow covered and blended in with the culvert. A highway maintenance man found him, frozen solid in an awkward position, in his car. The blood in the car was smeared all over the roof and doors, indicating he was injured but alive, before freezing to death. His position made the extrication difficult and it took 6 of us to get him up the snow covered embankment.

It looks like snow this coming weekend, maybe a lot of it. Snow brings out the best and worse in us, and Troopers are no different. I love snow, but am fortunate in that I’ll, God willing, never have to endure the bad times again. My memories are enough.