February 2, 2008




By Fred Lawson

     It was February of 1967.  Eurby stopped by to see if I wanted to cruise the town, and so off we went.  Eurby was driving his Dad's 1959 Oldsmobile.  After circling Winchester a couple of times, Eurby suggested we take a ride in the country.

     There was a lot of snow on the ground, the back roads were slick and full of snow drifts.  Eurby, who was always a good driver, maneuvered that Oldsmobile down the slick roads and around the snow drifts.  After a few minutes, Eurby began to brag on the car and how well it handled and how these old boats were almost impossible to stick in the snow. And then it happened.  The car veered off the road to the right, snow swept over the windshield.  Eurby steers hard to the left to no avail and when the car finally stops, we are stuck in a snow drift like a cork in a bottle.

     Eurby looks over at me and says “Don't say it Fred,” but I must.  “You’re right, Eurby, these old boats are almost impossible to stick.”  And Eurby's reply, which I have heard many times during our long friendship, “Shut up, Fred.”

     Eurby and I exit the car to survey the damage.  The car is not damaged, just stuck.  Eurby is so mad, he slams the driver's door shut. As Eurby slams the door, he let's out a howl.  Murphy's Law is in the building.  A couple of Eurby's fingers were shut in the door.  Eurby quickly reopens the door and releases his hand.  It wasn't a serious injury but Eurby's hand was throbbing like a baby robin.

     Eurby and I are walking down the road in total silence, the air is cold and the sun is setting.

     After about five minutes we come upon a farm house, the living room lights are on and there is a couple of cars in the driveway....rescue is close at hand.

     We go to the front door and knock.  Within a few seconds a man in his late thirties opens the door.  We politely explain to him we are stuck in a snow drift and need to use his telephone to call the Sunoco in Winchester.  We are invited in.  The warm air from the living room feels good as we step in side.  Eurby is directed to a telephone and quickly makes the call.  As he turns to say they are on there way, two young ladies enter from another room.

     And then it happens.  The two young ladies realize that Eurby Grubbs, star athlete of the Winchester Golden Falcons is in the building.  They begin to jump up and down and yell “IT'S EURBY GRUBBS, IT'S EURBY GRUBBS!!!!!”

     Eurby is standing there getting redder by the second and I begin to chuckle; Eurby gives me that “Shut up, Fred” look.

     I look down at Eurby's hand and notice it is dripping a little blood.  I suggest that my friend, Eurby, could do with a bit of first aid.  The words barely clear my mouth before the two young ladies are upon him, one on each arm, walking him to the bathroom.  The father and I are left standing in the living room grinning at each other.  We stand quietly listening to the chorus of “ Poor Eurby, does it hurt much Eurby, and we will fix you, Eurby” coming from the bathroom.

     Well, the truck from the Sunoco arrived, plucked the car from the snow drift and Eurby and I were on our way once again.  As I turned to Eurby and asked him how it feels to be famous he said “Shut up, Fred.”  But this time he was grinning from ear to ear.