Tools For Winter
It seemed like one of those crisp winter days when life stirs, and you joy in even the lightest ruffle of a decrepit leaf. One of winter's joys is back country driving. Through our hills snake a network of dirt roads, government funded roads. Men with aching backs in the 30's and 40's, blazed roads through our native jungles in an effort to provide food for their hungry families at home. This was welfare in yesteryear.
I thrust my 96 Ford Taurus straight at the y, taking the dirt road instead of the paved mountain pass. The trees stood like Serbian sentries, weighted down in winters white wool. A couple birds blinked under the sun's hazy frown. The road was narrow but it seemed fairly clear. For months the sun had been lapping up most of the snow from the road. The car rumbled slowly along at about twenty miles an hour. Five miles later the scene changed.
Suddenly as I turned at a sharp turn my breath seemed frozen. In front of me yards away stood the graveyard of winter. A van had careened off to the side, ending up sprawled in a ditch. Cars and trucks stood silent, stuck in various odd positions. A Ford 250 had slid straight over the hill almost on the verge of tumbling over. But for the moment it sat on its haunches a machine hung in the balance of nature's grip.
I felt sweat breaking out. Shaking hands clung to the steering wheel. Slowly the car crawled by these lonely abandoned machines. Then it happened, the tires lost traction. The car swung like a pendulum and bumped straight into the craggy hillside.
I tried in vain to back up, but the bumper was stuck in such a way that the wheels were spinning on nothing over a ditch. I finally bundled up ready for a five mile hike out of the woods. In a couple minutes, I meet men coming back to rescue their vehicles. Like angels in mechanics greasy clothes, they agreed to help me first. In a couple minutes they had a plan. We jacked up the front of the car and put stones under the front wheels. I clambered inside and with a trembling apprehension I inched the car back onto the road. Thanking the men profusely, I managed to creep at about five miles an hour down that mountain road with hidden black ice.
I learned that day that in the winter the sun clears some back roads, but others shaded by trees can still become traps for disaster. I also learned something many people talk about in reference to survival. You can only use what you have. I also learned it's even more important to learn how to actually use what you have.
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