James Dean's final day

Friday, September 30, 1955
8 A.M.: Jimmy arrived at Competition Motors with Rolf Wutherich, who gave the Porsche one last check on spark plugs and oil pressure.

12 Noon: Winton Dean and Charlie Dean showed up to say goodbye, and the four had lunch at the Farmer’s Market on Fairfax Avenue in downtown Los Angeles.

1:30 P.M.: Rolf and Jimmy went to pick up Sandy Roth and Bill Hickman. They went down Cahuenga to the freeway, then up Sepulveda to the Ridge Route.
They drove along the Ridge Route, stopping at Tip’s Diner for something to eat. Jimmy had a glass of milk. Rolf said, “I’d never seen Jimmy so happy. He talked and laughed and seemed very at ease.

3 P.M.: Back on the Grabevine (a grade of the Ridge Route), Wutherich gave Jimmy some advice about driving.
“Don’t go too fast!” I said, my face dead serious. “Don’t try to win! The Spyder is something quite different from the Speedster. Don’t drive to win; drive to get experience!” “Okay, Rolf,” he said with a smile, a sort of smile that laughed at me and my fears.
Then he hesitated for a moment. He pulled a ring from his finger. It wasn’t an expensive ring-just some little souvenir he had picked up, but I knew he had a sentimental attachment to the ring. He handed it to me.
“Why?” I asked.
“I want to give you something,” he said. “To show we’re friends, Rolf.” I was touched. The ring just fitted on my small finger. My hand was much bigger than Jimmy’s.
Jimmy’s driving was like the best in Europe. When he drove, he drove with his whole being. He had good steel in his hands.

3:30 P.M.: Highway patrolman Oscar Hunger pulled Jimmy over and gave him a ticket for doing sixty-five in a forty-five-mile-per-hour speed zone.

5 P.M.: They made a fifteen-minute stop at Blackwell’s Corner at the junction of Routes 466 and 33.

5:30 P.M.: Twilight. Jimmy had averaged seventy-five miler per hour from the time he’d been ticketed, which meant he must have been doing over one hundred miles per hour in some stretches.
A few minutes later, they approached the intersection of Routes 466 and 41 in Cholame. A Ford sedan going in the opposite direction on Route 466 becan to turn left. The driver looked down the road, didn’t see anything coming and turned.
Jimmy said to Wutherich, “That guy up there’s gotta stop; he’ll see us.”

5:45 P.M.: James Dean was dead.

It just sucks, that's all...

... I'm not a complete idiot. Some parts are missing.


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