Of Trucks, Traps, & Terror

To Winter, A Sincere Letter Do I Mind My MInd?

Of Trucks, Traps, & Terror

I heat my house with a wood burning furnace. A center chamber hold the wood which, as it burns, heats a boiler of water surrounding the chamber. The hot water is pumped to the house and through the pipes laid in the cement floor. It is a rather effective method — assuming you have wood.

I didn’t have enough wood to make it through this cold snap. I would have run out of wood today but it was going to be too cold to go cut up wood for the furnace.

Luckily I am spoiled. My sister texted me and told me to just buy wood and she’d cover the cost. So yesterday, I searched Kijiji for someone close by who had wood for sale. I found someone quite close who had wood for the standard price. I called… and it was busy, and busy, and busy and …..’oh I’m sorry he just stepped out the door. Call back at six’

I got a hold of him and he said ‘No problem We can load up you truck this evening – meet you at 7:30′

So I drove out, through the blustering snow, and the sub-arctic winds. I found the place without any real effort. We loaded the truck nice and full of split, dried, hard wood.

Great. Now all I would have to do through the next few really cold days was run out occasionally, toss in a few pieces of wood, and run back in. I didn’t have to worry about how much wood I was using because – for these few days at least – I would have enough to get through. After that, I’d figure out what to do – but the crisis period was covered….

If only I knew the truth.

Where I got the wood was on a side street off a main road. I had noticed it was not the best road so leaving, I took the turn wide and very slow.

Next thing I knew, the truck was canted dramatically to the drivers side. I was off the road – next to a very wide, deep ditch half full of snow. I still cannot fathom how this occurred.

How close to the ditch edge was I? I had no idea because of the amount of snow.

I tried slowly, backing up a couple inches then forward – trying to slowly work my way out. I managed to straighten the truck, get it facing more in line with the road but I noticed that doing so was also causing me to inch closer to the ditch.

I called my father-in-law. He said he was on his way. Just then our old mechanic drove up with his big old truck with two tires on each rear axle. An old work horse of a thing. I called back my father-in-law. ‘Have help don’t worry.’

So we hitched the chain to the rear of each truck and I put my Vera in reverse and he put his truck in drive and –

NOTHING.

Didn’t even wiggle.

So he said, ‘I know a guy just down the road who has a wrecker, I’ll go see if he’s willing to come drag you out.’ Sounded like a plan to me. Because lets not forget – the entire reason I was out there was to get the wood so that I could heat the house for the next few awful days.

A few other people had stopped during this time. All offering rides home, or that they were coming back this way shortly and they’d check back to make sure I was still good.

This is country life — say what you will about city conveniences — nothing is more convenient than everyone being your best neighbor when you need it, whether you know them or not.

So five, maybe ten, minutes later my old mechanic pulls back up. ‘Wreckers a no go – It’s wrecked and having to have another wrecker haul it home. Give you a ride home?’

I look at my beautiful truck –my Vera — half buried in snow, the load of wood in the back. I want to say, ‘No,you go on home. I’m going to stay by her.’ But I know that’s not an option.

I get home two hours after I left, having not travel very far at all, and not only do I not have wood… now I don’t have a truck.

This morning I my wife wakes me. ‘Police called to tell us our trucks on the side of the road’. It’s good of them, I guess. She goes on, ‘That’s the good news.’

‘That’s the ONLY news’ I tell her. She leaves me to wake and get dressed.

When I come down to the kitchen to get my coffee I see the pot of melted snow water on the other burner. Well that’s the other news. One thing at a time.

I drink my coffee and arrange to have my father-in-law come get me – we are going to try and get Vera out using his brand new four-wheel drive 350.

We hook up the chain and give her a pull. She moves back a good foot but then rolls back. Too deep.

I forgot the shovel. Back we go – grab the shovel – and turn around.

I dig out the truck, a path for the tires behind, clear out the drivers side and as much of the underneath as I can reach. It’s almost three feet deep and I seriously suspect I am standing on snow that has nothing under it but more snow and under that – the ditch!

Get in, try again. This time we get her moved a good 6 feet. Time to dig some more. And again – 6 feet. The problem is the road is a curve. No room to pull straight out. I’m reaching for the door handle to hop out and dig some more – but my father-in-law has other plans. He just keeps pulling.

—- and my truck is going along.

I try desperately to steer, but there is too much snow piling up. I’m helpless but moving.

Moving along the side of the road – not getting any closer to the road, just digging deep furrows in the snow along the ditch edge. I’m starting to feel a little panicked by this, but it does seem to be progress.

THEN THE NOSE OF THE TRUCK DIPS!

I feel the front-end going down into the ditch, even as she’s moving back. Terror reaches out and, for the first time in my life, I feels it’s cruel caress. The moment seems to go on forever, the truck sliding into the ditch as it is pulled along the side of the road.

I don’t know if I should try jumping out, and possibly be smashed by the truck , or stay in and risk being trapped in a snow filled ditch deeper than the length of my full-sized truck!

Then the front rises up again. My heart thuds in my throat and I try to swallow it. I pant like a mutt in august heat.

Then my Vera suddenly pops out of the snow and onto the blacktop.

So I’m home, so is Vera (who started with a little extra juice from my father-in-laws truck) and her load of wood.

Now I just have to try and get water running again.

So when people say… ‘What’s wrong with winter? I like winter. I hope it snows this year!’ You understand why I have to bury them out behind the barn.