Yesterday Carol and I returned to the scene of our most memorable accident, when our entire family was in a horse and buggy accident at Old Bedford Village in 1989.
We were riding in an enclosed “bus wagon” pulled by Queenie, who, when she emerged from the woods into an open area, was spooked by a kite. She took off, and despite wearing blinders, ran gaping up at the sky, and never saw the building she ran into. The old buggy crumpled into the porch, and we all landed on Carol, who hurt her leg. The camera around my neck took a vicious swipe at my forehead. Before the buggy fell completely on its side, some onlookers held it up at an angle, and we were able to pass the kids out through the side window. Old Bedford Village trundled us off to the hospital for an hours-long checkup, and when we returned to the Village that evening, they quickly refunded our admission. And they followed up on our welfare for the next several weeks. See this post for the thrilling details.
Even in a historical village, a lot can change over 34 years. No one works there now who was there then, but those we told the story to were all fascinated. We learned that Queenie’s son, Prince, was their resident horse for many years, but now they have a different one. They no longer drive cows through the village, and no longer give horse and buggy rides, because they can’t afford the liability insurance.
We think we identified the building of the accident, but it too looks different from 34 years ago. Also, the site manager told us that there are several buildings that they had to tear down over the years, so maybe it doesn’t exist anymore.
Still, we enjoyed the return on an uncrowded day, visiting yesteryear’s common facilities, tools and routines. Without a horse and buggy ride.
