A Request for the Bionic Bumblebee Story

Long, long ago, in a faraway time and place we owned the Bionic Bumblebee.  She was a short-wheel base Chevy van that was probably one of the first conversion vans.  Her school-bus-yellow paint job with a wide dark brown stripe around her middle (kinda the reverse color pattern for a bumblebee) is how she got her name. My CB handle, of course, was ... wait for it ... the Queen Bee! The children were small; my oldest son was 6, the middle one was 5, and the wee one was just 2. Their father had left us, but for the time being I still had the Bionic Bumblebee. The interior was yellow and brown shag carpet on the floor, walls and ceiling.  The two front seats were captain chairs, the remainder of the van was custom.  There was a semi-circular, dark brown velour-covered sofa at the back doors with a half-circle foot rest that made the sofa into a double bed.  It could slide out and be replaced with a table.  In between the sofa and captains chairs was an under-the-counter refrigerator, a sink, and overhead cabinets.  S-w-e-e-t!!

It was probably January, and Granma Jo had come to spend the day with us.  Momma and I loved snow, and Oklahoma was scheduled to have a good bit of it.  So, we loaded up the boys and took off for Oklahoma.  It would only take us an hour or so to reach Turner Falls, and if the snow fall as forecast, Turner Falls is always a pretty visit.

The snow did cooperate - along with some ice, well, lots of ice.  I'm a really good, observant driver. Even Granpa's father, Daddy John, thought so, and that was a really great compliment to me! Granma Jo was a superb driver, too, and we had no qualms whatsoever about this adventure.

We got to Turner Falls over a thick coating of ice.  There were a few other folks around.  (See?  We aren't the only snowy nuts around!)  An RV was coming down the large hill/small mountain in the Park and had no problems.  Therefore, I thought I could make it up the same road.  I got up what I thought was enough speed to carry the Bee over the top - but, no-o-o-o!

Three-quarters of the way up we lost forward motion and began a backward slide.  Gently applying the brakes, we stopped.  Release the brake, add a tad of gas, an-n-d, the rear slips toward the edge of the cliff.  Brake on again, repeat the process, same result.  Brake on, release the brake with no gas. Better, but there is no steering the Bee.  Brake on. Amazingly, Granma Jo gets very nervous. I've never seen Granma Jo nervous. That's funny to me.

You see, the very worst thing that could happen is that we sit right here until a tow truck comes.  So, what's the big deal.  But apparently I was the only one that thought of that.

My oldest son walked up to the back of the captain's chairs.  A look in the rear-view mirror exposed the most frightened face he's ever put on.  Eyes the size of saucers!  (I suppose he had reached the age of wisdom.) The middle son had a "what now" kind of expression, and the youngest was simply having a ball running and jumping on the sofa. (Remember, this was a long time ago and there was no requirement for seat belts - in fact, there weren't any in the back of the van.)

Granma Jo and I discuss the possibilities for successful extraction from our predicament.  We had a blanket with us.  Maybe if we spread it out under the back wheels it would give us the traction we needed.  She hops out and, holding to the side of the Bee, attempts to spread it as best she can.

Brake off - and the rear heads for the cliff.  So Granma Jo insists on standing on the cliff side of the Bee and plans to push the Bee back toward the middle of the road. Granma Jo is impossible to stop once she gets something in her head.  (Now you know where I get it :-)  Now I'm very nervous.
In my mind's eye, I see the Bee continuing toward the cliff, but before it goes over - Granma Jo does!!

Larry is still petrified.  Jamie is waiting it out.  Christopher is jumping from window to window following Granma Jo as she moves around the Bee.

Inch by inch, slower than slow, we work our way down the mountain.  The hero of this story, according to her, unequivocally, is Granma Jo.  She will tell you in a heartbeat that she pushed the Bee back onto the road and down to the bottom of the hill all by her lonesome.  If you say so, Momma.  If you say so.

Safely down at the bottom we all decide that we'd had our adventure for the day, and head back home. It really was a memorable day - and I'd do it all over again.  (Really wish cell phones were equipped with cameras back then!  LOL!!)  As a matter of fact, Granpa and I think we'll try to find a snow-topped mountain this weekend.