High School Memories

IT WAS LATE NOVEMBER 1966. Wet leaves were scattered on the ground, and it was already dark by 5:30.

I was a senior in high school and had just picked up my new letter jacket from the Varsity Shop in downtown Birmingham. At my side was my new girlfriend, Sue Frank, a beautiful blonde 10th grader.

We were tooling around the city’s older neighborhoods listening to WKNR, in my mom’s new Delta 88 equipped with a full bench seat. Our favorite Four Tops song began to play. 

Now, if you feel that you can't go on

Because all of your hope is gone

And your life is filled with much confusion

Until happiness is just an illusion

And your world around is crumblin' down

Darling, reach out, come on girl, reach on out for me

Reach out, reach out for me

I'll be there, with a love that will shelter you

I'll be there, with a love that will see you through.

Four Tops, 1966, First stanza of Reach Out I’ll Be There

That song was ours, and it only needed a quick meeting of our eyes to set things in motion. I was north of Poppleton Park on a dirt road when a possible parking space came into view on the side of the road. It seemed like the perfect little spot to pull over and share a little romance.

Heck, it was dark out, I had my new letter jacket, and I was with my girl. Life couldn’t have been any better.

I had assured Sue’s mother that I would have her back at their apartment by 6 for dinner. It was 5:30, and we only had a mile to go—about three minutes by car, I estimated. We kissed and listened to the radio, quite oblivious to the snow squall that dumped four inches of fresh snow in twenty minutes.

At 5:55, I started the car, both aware of our 6 PM obligation. I had removed my coat during our smooching and had stuffed it behind me. I put the car in drive and quickly realized we were stuck on the road’s incline with no traction from the fresh snow.

I quickly assessed the situation and concluded that we needed a little traction, and we would soon be on our way.

It seemed so simple in concept.

The car had no floor mats as Mom had had to order them. Using them to get traction had been my first thought. Next, I concluded that my letter jacket was the answer to our predicament, as it could be laundered. I grabbed my jacket from the front seat and placed it on the snowy ground in front of the back right tire. I assumed that Sue (she had completed driver’s training) would take the wheel, and I would rock the car from the rear, getting us up the incline.

I’m not sure what happened next. The only thing I remember was watching my coat wrap around the spinning tire and rear axle, pieces of maroon cloth and faux white leather were flying all over the place. My new coat was a goner, and the car was still stuck.

We began walking toward Sue’s home, which was near Derby Junior High off Adams. I remembered halfway there that Dr. Miller, a close family friend, lived on the way, so we stopped at the house and knocked on the front door.

I still remember the smirk on Dr. Miller’s face as I tried to explain our predicament and why I was with a ripped coat; mindful of Sue’s reputation, we somehow passed muster. We called Sue’s mom from the Millers' to advise her of Sue’s safe harbor. I also contacted my mom. I recall her responding, “This sounds interesting.”

Dr. Miller drove Sue home. The tow truck from the Shell gas station arrived after an hour of waiting at the Millers’ house, and I finally got home with Mom's new Oldsmobile, half-starving and not at all wiser.

I concluded that at least I didn't have to get my new letter jacket dry-cleaned. It was a goner. These became the first steps in moving on from the memorable afternoon.

Life's lessons and happy memories are all wrapped up in getting stuck in the unexpected snowstorm.