Chapter Sixteen in “Decades with the Squad,” by my late father, William Palmer Jervey, Jr.

Vanity, vanity, all is vanity. The truth of this old saying was borne out in the episode of a simpleton literally racing the clock on his way from Powhatan to Richmond. An attractive young lady of Powhatan had the misfortune to be headed west as Simpleton headed east. She met this character on the wrong side of the road in a blind curve where they collided. He sustained a broken leg. Too bad it wasn’t his neck.

The lady had a two-inch cut on the top of her head and when we lifted her from the wreck, her head resembled the Sherwin-Williams paint advertisement. She was sorely concerned about the condition of her face, and while I applied a dressing and yard of bandage to her gory head, she frantically asked me if it was ruined. In an effort to be reassuring, I casually remarked, “No, indeed, a little soap and water will do wonders for you.”

“I just had a bath!” she snapped, instantly indignant.

Anyway, I tried.