The Midget. The Mountain. The Girl.
The Midget Was Brand-New And The Color Of Ballpark Mustard.
1970 YELLOW MG MIDGET (NOT MINE).
No more than 200 miles on the odometer, when the idiot trying to pass me spun out of control and totaled my new MG Midget.
That was 1970, and looking back, maybe I was the idiot for driving a brand new, tiny sports car onto a snow-slicked Vermont road. The other driver was uninjured, and my buddy in the passenger seat was shaken but okay.
An ambulance took us to the emergency room, where the doctor picked shards of safety glass from my arm. The others were too deep, he explained, and would work their way out over time.
The friend we were staying with picked us up. He was on Killington ski patrol, so the next morning we got to the mountain early.
I skied Killington a lot that season, leaving Manhattan after Friday rush hour; arriving at my friend’s around midnight. Up early for a full day. Party that night. An early start Sunday; leave for Manhattan around 3.
On holiday weekends, we drove the additional distance to Stowe.
Sunday morning, we decided to sleep in and missed our ride to the mountain. This was a time in my life when non-ski clothes and toiletries went in a small daypack. We carried packs and gear out to the road and hitched to the mountain.
It may be because of that experience that I still pick up hitchhikers carrying skis; even a boarder on occasion.
The driver pulled into a line of parked cars. As we thanked him, another car pulled in next to us. It had New York plates, and two pretty girls.
I quickly explained what happened and our need for a lift back to Manhattan. It was their destination, as well. The girls needed to think it over. We agreed to meet them in the day lodge at 3:00 PM when they’d let us know.
Throughout life, we hear about or experience random but life-altering events. I didn’t know this would be one of them.
I made a date with one of the girls for a few nights later, on Saint Patrick’s Day. At lunch, I walked over to Rockefeller Center to see the parade. Negotiating my way through the throng, the girl appeared. Millions of people in the Big City, and we bump into each other a few hours before our date, the first of many.
Skiing has been a major influence in shaping my life. Who could have predicted that losing my new MG Midget on the way to Killington would result in meeting my future wife?