It was just coming light and as I came down the hill I spun and couple of turns in that ole “63” short wheelbased Chevrolet pickup and smacked the guardrail right on the end of the bridge. I was more than likely going too fast for the conditions. Let me back up there, I was going to fast.
Early one Sunday morning with it raining and the road slick, I had taken Kenny out to the Pure Stone Quarry to pick up a dump truck. I would have been 14 or 15 years old.
George Becker was standing in the front part of his auto garage building (the old Chevrolet Dealer showroom that had previously occupied that building) and saw it happen.
He rushed over and hooked on to it with his old trusty red and white Chevrolet Wrecker and had it back into the security of his shop in a matter of a few minutes. Maybe before even a half dozen cars had passed and for sure before the law ever arrived.
Soon there after he towed it up to our shop, which was just north of Ken’s Catfish. We jerked the whole front end off and went down on South Congress in Austin to Pennington Truck Parts and found a replacement that was the same color. In just a few days it was back up and running just like nothing had ever happened.
I don’t remember Cecil Lewis ever saying one word about that whole incident. He took those little missteps in stride. It wasn’t the big things that bothered him. But he could come unglued about things of little consequence however. Strangest thing I ever saw. But the only thing stranger is I have been told I’ve done the same thing throughout time. Oh well, I guess that ole apple didn’t fall far from the tree.