The Wreck At The South End Of The Marble Falls Bridge

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. For whatever reason they thought a 14 year old had any business back in those days.

It was just becoming light and as I came down the hill and that old “63” short wheelbased, step-side Chevrolet pickup spun out and smacked the guardrail right on the end of the bridge.

That truck was not so different from this one, same color too

I was more than likely going too fast for the conditions. Let me back up there, I was going too fast. I can say that because we were always going too fast. Kenny had left out in front of me, as I had stopped to close the gate.

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 early 1950s 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 Crawford’s Pump and Supply.

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 old apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

2 thoughts on “The Wreck At The South End Of The Marble Falls Bridge

  1. I hate it when, thinking of something that links me too tightly to my paternal example, I have to admit that the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. So much of my life after I left his home has been to try to be as far away from that tree as possible. But now that I’m a homeowner, and see the quality of the work I do, the resemblances are all. too. clear.

    Liked by 1 person

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