“Where’s My Car?”

In February 1969, Cambridge had a massive blizzard for three straight days.(The picture on the left was from 1969 in Boston). It left an average of 22 inches of snow, but more in some places. It covered the bottom steps off the porch of our housing. The first two days were on the weekend, so we didn’t have to worry about going anywhere. The third day, we had classes, so we put on boots, tights, coats, gloves and hats and set off on the 20 minute walk to our lecture hall. (Girls were not allowed to wear skirts to class.) To our astonishment, our lecturer didn’t arrive. So we tromped back home, the only time we didn’t have class in my four years at college.

Needless to say, it buried my car.(The right hand picture is from a more recent Boston blizzard, but looks identical.) I dug for a long time, only to find that the street was now higher than my car. So I made little ramps in the snow to get up to the height of the street. Of course, when I left, I put chairs in my little spot so that no one else would take advantage of my stellar work! Recently I guess Boston has tried to prevent this, but old habits still prevail for many.

After a few days, a Cambridge garbage truck failed to navigate our little street and hit my car. The only way to get reimbursed for the damage was to get two estimates and show up in Small Claims Court. I went to one body shop and got an estimate. The owner asked me what had happened, and when I told him, he said:”The City hit you?” When I affirmed that, he tore up the first estimate, opened his desk drawer and took out two totally different body shop pads and wrote me two estimates.

I took them both to the Small Claims Court and was awarded the smaller(still inflated) estimate. I never did repair the car, but used the money for my spring road trip. More about that later.

 

 

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