RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,348
(pitfalls and vicissitudes)
A few days into my first stay
at Columbia Crossroads, while
I was still feeling my way - and
my little family was there too, wife
and 6-month old - we were blasted
(Jan. '71) with what amounted to a
major snowstorm. even by their local
Crossroads standards. Everyone else
probably knew about it, but I had no
knowledge it was due - we were
isolated, no radio or TV, etc. So that
night and next two days we were
blasted and solitary, in a 36 hour
whiteout of really rough proportions.
We had just enough milk and food
and baby stuff to get by, but since
everything was new to us (including
the bizarre lack of heat with any
substance), we struggled and froze
our butts off. It was one to remember,
and became a defining learning
experience. We were still finding
out where the light switches were,
and then this. I guess we could
have been in serious trouble, but
we got by.
-
The most surprising thing was when
I went outside. I couldn't locate the car.
My little red VW, which I had parked
against the lower brick wall under the
house, had been inundated with a drifting
cake-icing like set of snow-swirls that
flipped and looped over that entire lower
portion of the house. (Little did I, stupidly
again, know or foresee). I knew where I
had left it, and did eventually locate it, but
the most hopeless task awaited me. Cleaning
off and digging out the car would be fine,
though onerous, but after that there was
nowhere to go. No car tracks anywhere;
nothing but 12-14 inches of wild, blowing
snow. The nearby garage doors too, adding
to the problem, did NOT open upward, but
- in the old farm manner - bot doors swung
OUT, on their hinges; which meant the
entire sweep of each door also needed to
be shoveled and cleared to allow any
access to the basement and/or garage
parking area. A real problem! I went back
into the house, grumbling to myself about
the mess I was in. And an unforeseen mess,
to be sure.
-
I was brand-new to the area, hadn't really
'met' anyone - except for the two neighboring
farmers with whom I'd had a casual lunch
and some conversation, and - of course -
Willard Brown, the farmer from over the
hilltop, whose family I'd dined with and
from whom I'd bought the property and
arranged a second mortgage (see Rudiments,
#1342, 'Black Walnut Hollow'), I was
perplexed over what to do, and then I
heard it! In the distance, and slowly
approaching, was a giant red tractor. At
the wheel, I saw upon approach, was
Warren Gustin - exposed to the elements
and bundled up like a fur-trapper. He had
taken some dumb-boy pity on me, and,
knowing I'd need help, came by with his
John Deere (same tractor I'd end up using
on a daily basis, almost as 'my own' when
I worked the farm for him and with him).
He had tow chains and a small plow too.
As we met each other on the lower lane,
there was little small talk. We both knew
what was up, and the seriousness of the
situation. (It could have been days until
we had any exit possibilities, let alone
re-entering the yard). A few words of
instruction, a few grunts and 'yeps', and
we set to work. We secured a tow chain
to the underside of the VW and I did
some cursory clearing off of the car
while Warren lightly plowed some area
for parking the car. Then he positioned
the tractor and slowly eased the car
through the blown and powdery
snow. It moved OK, and he dragged
it over to the area he'd cleared.
-
Our next task was to get the snow
cleared from the garage swing-out
doors area, so as to gain access to
the shelter and parking beneath the
house. That went well enough, and
then - using the tractor and plow -
Warren clear, essentially, the entire
lower driveway area. Then, when he
was done, he walked over to me and
said, 'That ought to hold you now, until
the plows get here in two or three hours.
I've called Eddie Menger and told him
the situation, and he says they'll be out
her, top priority, to get you open to the
hardtop. I was besides myself with
gratitude, yes, and from that day on,
including all the time I worked for him
after the big Elmira flood had wiped out
my Elmira job, we were fast friends and,
pretty much, sidekicks. He added that, if
the plows again snowed me in, I should just
call him back. I declined, saying, 'I'll just
dig the drive out. It's a small car and I
think we can make it. Thanks!. And with
that, he was off. It was a real Godsend,
and one of the better things that ever
happened to me. Like magic!
-
The rest of the day was just spent waiting.
Whoever Eddie Menger was, he too came
through, and the big plow truck came by,
two long sweeps up the hill and down, and
the dirt road was cleared enough to get the
car out. (Turned out he was the equipment
manager for the local road-crew guys). I
don't know what would have happened if
either Warren, or this Eddie guy, hadn't
showed up and pulled through for me, but
I was a wee lad, new to the land, and they
were both really cool about the situation.
-
The next thing we did was venture out, for
the ten or twelve miles to Troy, PA, for
some groceries and supplies. We couldn't
take any more chances, and would no
longer have naivete as an excuse to use.
Winter was weird and wild in these parts,
and this became our first lesson in its
pitfalls and vicissitudes. The paved roads
weren't bad at all and - once I learned to
ropes of our long dirt road - that never
seemed quite as bad again, except maybe
for the mud-sinks I've mentioned.
That first storm was over. There'd be
many more, but none with the
staying power or shock value of
this first one. A real eye-opener.
No comments:
Post a Comment