I received a message from Vince Blanton. He told me that "Everett the cop" who used to break up the drag races at the red light and, in general, give kids a hard time is still around. I know his house was in Karns but didn't know if he still lived there. The man struck fear into the lives of plenty of people, mostly those in their teens. I was one of them.
One summer I broke my ankle-for the second time- working for the maintenance department in Knoxville. I had an orthodontist appointment and had to drive Mother's car since it was an automatic. Being a typical teen, I took the long way to the appointment, and that route took me over Byington-Beaver Ridge Road. Just past where the water department used to be and MK Mechanical Services is located there is a narrow bridge. As I came over that structure, a boy in my class passed me going the other way. He was speeding and nearly hit me.
The incident scared me witless, so I passed the first driveway on the right, backed into it and prepared to chase the guy down and...flog him with my crutch. I looked to my left, the shortest distance, to the right, and back to the left. With no other car in sight, I pulled out. Midway in the road, I looked up to see a Knox County Sheriff's squad car barreling straight for me.My first instinct was to stomp the gas pedal and allow the 386 Plymouth Fury to make a getaway. The police vehicle's rack of lights was spinning, but there was on siren.
Tires squealed, mine as they grabbed the road in traction and the lighted one as they tried to stop and avoid a crash. Too late. Mother's car moved far enough ahead to avoid being t-boned by the officer's cruiser. The impact occurred on the rear quarter panel. Everything went into slow motion. The sound of grinding metal and exploding plastic was deafening.
I watched in amazement as the cop car struck mine and then began to slide sideways. Its rear end lost traction and left the road. It went down the steep ditch and came to a definitive thud with the front of the car facing perpendicular to the road.
I scrambled out of the car, grabbed my crutches, and cursed. Yep, Mother would kill me. I screwed up her car. But what was I to do? The police car was on top of me in the blink of an eye. I'd done everything properly, but the car was still mangled in the side.
I walked to the ditch and looked down at the patrol car. The door swung opened and a form exited. He grabbed the door frame and used it as a way to pull himself up the embankment. When he stepped on the pavement, the officer glared at me. Deputy Gene Everett was hopping mad and looked as if he'd relish the opportunity to draw his pistol and put the teenage punk in front of him out of commission for good.
A Highway Patrolman covered the accident and found me at fault. No tickets were issued, but I was the one who was supposedly in the wrong. Mother contacted Sheriff Wagoner and asked him how I could be at fault when the officer was speeding after the car driven by the teen I was going after, but was doing so without having his siren on. Let's say the matter was dropped, and I was no longer the offending party.
I figure of all the encounters teens had with Deputy Everett, mine was the worse. In hindsight, I see where my road rage began. I also know just how lucky I was to have not been injured. Everett the cop patrolled the community for years to come, and to be honest, he did more good than harm. We teens just didn't like him because he gave us so much grief.
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