Nice piece of writing.

I vividly remember going into a spin on an icy off-ramp in Chicago sometime during the winter of 1967/68. It's amazing how time slows down once you lose control! I was driving someone else's '65 Mustang (the owner was, er, incapacitated), overloaded with 6 or maybe even 7 college punks.

I remember saying out loud, "You're supposed to steer into the skid, right?," and getting verification from one very calm backseat driver. We traded several lines of talk back and forth while spinning down the ramp, reassuring each other that I was doing the right thing with the steering wheel ~ seemed like a half-hour or more, but it was probably no more than 10-20 seconds before we came to a halt, still in the center of our lane.

As luck would have it, a Chicago cop was sitting in his cruiser at the foot of the ramp. I was expecting to catch hell from him when I saw him approach, and there was also an issue involving some illegal substances in our group's joint possession -(wink)- but Mr. Policeman just asked if everyone was OK, told me "Nice Driving!" and let us go on our way

I probably would not have done nearly so good a job keeping the car on all four wheels without my buddy talking me through the process during those many l-o-o-o-n-g seconds.

So, we started the car back up and proceeded to the Electric Ballroom, or whatever the name of that place was. I think we were going to see John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers that Saturday night.