An Unfortunate Slip
By Gene Aronowitz
Chicago weather can be frightful. In late January 1967, a fierce blizzard with 53 miles per hour winds dropped a record 23 inches of snow on the city in a little over 24 hours, creating drifts that reached 15 feet. As dramatic as that was, the weather event I remember most vividly occurred earlier that month.
I was driving on a traffic circle, actually a three-block oval. Freezing rain was hitting my windshield, creating a debilitating panic. The trees and shrubs were glistening, beautiful usually, but terrifying because ice that thick can split trees by increasing the weight on the branches.
I was going very slowly, but even at that speed, I could feel the car sliding almost randomly even though I was holding the steering wheel steady. I was sure the sheets of smooth ice on the street could be lethal.
And then, I realized I was heading in the wrong direction and needed to make a U-turn at the end of the oval. I turned the steering wheel, but the car continued to go straight. Directly in front of me was a police car parked at the curb. I hit the brakes, but the car wouldn’t stop. The police officer saw me heading in his direction, ran to the car, about five feet away, and could only get his right leg inside when I collided with the back of his car. He lurched forward, his left knee hitting the door hinge.
He leaped out of the car, his eyes blazing. He glared at me and shouted, “Give me your driver’s license and registration.” Rather than just taking the documents from my outstretched hand, he snatched them, looked at me menacingly, and stomped back into his car. I didn’t look at my watch, but I know he sat there a long time, I imagined, checking everything he could find out about me. When he returned, he thrust a ticket along with my documents at me, returned to his car, and drove off. My infraction was “Driving too fast for conditions.”
I appeared in traffic court when required and thought I saw the judge smile as he looked at my ticket. Perhaps he noticed the speed I was traveling. The police officer had written “7 mph.” The judge looked up, nodded, and said I was free to go/ The police officer, sitting in the second row, continued to glare.
