A little story


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Posted by J. Galt on Tuesday, January 07, 2003 at 1:09PM :

Guess it has been a while since we have had a little story, thought I would share. Hope you do not mind.


It was cold and raining as I climbed into the "spacious cab" with my dog. The starter engaged and the motor fired, I waited for the old flathead to warm up. Waiting patiently, the cab began to fog due to the moisture from wet clothes and fur. I pulled the defrost knob, the fan whirled to life. However, the fan could not compensate for the amount moisture and I had to take a rag out and wipe the windshield interior. I also cracked open the cowl vent so it will circulate a little air. I know, some of you may be wondering, why is the wet dog in the cab, why not in the box? Well, the box was completely full of ¾” plywood, actually stacked almost cab high. It was nicely covered/wrapped cocoon-style with several nice canvas tarps and secured by stakes and ratchet straps. Not sure what it weighed, but it was quite a load, but not one that would concern myself with today. Even if the box was empty, the dog would ride in the cab if that is where she preferred to be. No fancy leather or upholstery to mess up here. Besides, she the only living thing I have ever loved unconditionally.

We are heading to my new place in the hills about 35 miles from my place in town. I considered taking the newer diesel Dodge 4x4 but I had loaded the Power Wagon earlier in the week since the weather forecast looked threatening and the road/path was not so great. For once, the weatherman was right. Also, I greatly enjoy driving the Power Wagon up the old road to the new place. Something just feels right about it. Why would you drive a new truck when you have a more than competent old Power Wagon?

The rain had been constant since Thursday at noon. Traffic was light on this Saturday mid morning as I eased through town. We, of course, were the slowest thing on the road. That’s okay, I have heard of others being flipped off by other motorists for going too slow but I have never had this problem. I usually get a wave, thumbs up, or some other form of admiration as people pass by the old Dodge. Finally on the 2-lane highway, I move to the shoulder to let others pass, including a family in a new Cadillac SUV. Different strokes for other folks is what they say…but please, shoot me if you see me driving an Escalade, Avalanche, or H2.

We wind our way up the curves and through some hills. I wish at times for more power but my mind wanders to different times bringing a slight smile to my lips. It is not mountainous, just hilly, and quite scenic. The dog has curled up on the seat, resting her head in my lap, I pet her head as we ease down the road. She is a good size dog and she fills up the rest of the seat. I think she enjoys this truck as much as me. If I leave the truck door as I work in the shop at home, she will often lie on the seat, as long as she can see me before she dozes off. But driving, I wonder if the noises the truck makes, the rattles, the gears, the motor, etc… are like white noise to the dog. Reaching the county road turnoff, the pavement stops, as does the rain. We have about 5 or so miles to go so before we reach my new place.

The rain has softened the earth and the road will be slick. Before we leave the pavement, I stop and reach for the parking brake. The dog opens an eye but her head never leaves the leg where she has placed it for the trip. I then open the door, she perks up but stays in the cab as I get out and lock the Warns. We will need the front drive axle before we reach our destination. Getting back in the cab I roll down both windows to enjoy the smell of fresh rain, dirt, and the countryside. The dog hangs out the passenger side, her head darting about at every object she sees, she knows where she is and is now eager to be outside.

Driving again, I can see that two other vehicles have recently been on the road. Two separate tracks show both parties had a hard time keeping their vehicles from wandering. The load in the rear stabilizes my old truck on the soft ground. About a mile down the road I come to a shallow dip in the road where the rain has water running steady. There is a solid bottom here; I do not both to pull one of the levers down to the right.

Proceeding, we slowly round a curve, the road worsens. I pull to the right side after clearing the curve. I reach for the thermos. The dog turns curiously, wanting to get out. She is excited and her ears are perked up. I wonder what she is smells as I pour a small cup of coffee. Heck, I am curious now and I turn off the truck. The dog is going to get dirty shortly anyway, so I let her out as I stand on the running board. Drinking from my cup, I check my load as she proceeds ever so slowly around the front of the truck, very much stalking some unseen prey. I step up from the running board on the side of the bed and then again to the top of my load. On the other side of the fence, beyond the rise are several whitetails with their young. They see me and cautiously raise their “flags”. I call quietly to the dog. She has already stopped but turns to me, her eyes beckoning me to let her have some fun. The deer amble off and the dog returns to the truck. I am somewhat shocked, she must be maturing, that dog often has a mind of her own like most Pyrenees. Crawling down from my perch after finishing the coffee, I swing the remaining contents toward the soft ground and secure the cup and thermos in the cab. Reentering the cab, I fire the engine, reach down to my right, release one lever and pull another, engaging the front drive axle. The dog wants to scout so I let her canter in front as I proceed down the slippery road.

Within a mile of the property, I see a couple people standing across from the last creek crossing; they are waving their arms. The dog has seen them, too. She has stopped and waits, making sure I see what she sees. Rounding the last curve before going down into the bottom, I can see the problem. One vehicle, the very same Escalade that passed me earlier with the waving kids, has slid off the main road on the other side of the creek. There appears the rescue vehicle; a ¾ ton Powerstroke 4x4 has managed to stick himself in attempting to free the Caddy with a chain. The parties are both my neighbors who I have yet to formally meet. I reach down to the right again and pull back the parking lever, kill the engine, and leave the truck in gear. I walk down the slope to investigate. Everyone is glad to see me, I meet them all. One of the neighbor comments on the Power Wagon, saying his uncle had one on his farm for many, many years. He knows the capability of the old Dodge. I smile, more to myself, thinking I have heard this before many times. I think the other neighbor with the Powerstroke has his doubts.

The Cadillac is mired in mud and gravel, having become high centered off the side of the road. I decide the best thing to do is to pull the Powerstroke’s receiver ball and place it in the Escalades receiver. There is a lot of plastic on that “truck”, I am glad it has the “Tow Package”. The easy thing to do would be to use my heavy-duty recovery strap and pop the vehicle free; there is enough room in the bottom to safely do this. However, I am not sure the owner is ready for this. Putting on my gloves, I get the old McKissick snatch block from the box on the running board, safely secure it to the ball, and unwind the winch. I deadman to an old tree with a chain and a Pull Pal tree saver.

The dog could not be happier. The young Pyrenees stands knee deep in the cold water, supervising in a way only a Pyrenees owner can appreciate. Head bowed, neck stretched, staring out of the top of her eyes, somewhat like your father would look at you between the top of the frames of his glasses and forehead. I accidentally honk the horn as I enter the cab, the Pyrenees jerks her gaze towards the Power Wagon then disappears down stream. She has seen this operation before; it is now time for her to explore.

Everyone has gone to the opposite side of the creek. The Caddy driver is in neutral and has the wheels pointed in the correct direction. I honk the horn again, signaling I am ready, and the driver gives a wave. I work a lever here, a pedal there. The cable slowly pulls tight; the Power Wagon moves ever so slightly finding a solid base. Sounds abound, music to my ears. The Escalade slowly moves toward my truck, it now requiring no effort on my part. I watch and listen attentively, but it is all-mechanical at this point. The vehicle is free. The Cadillac driver steps out and waving and smiling. He unhooks the heavy snatch block and helps me rewind the winch cable. He expresses his gratitude, stating he knew the old Power Wagon would be up to the task.

Next up is the Powerstroke. It also off the right side of the road and buried on the right side. I decide to use the recovery strap from the front of the Ford. The owner thinks I am going to have difficulty making it pass the left of his truck without sliding into him. I assure him this will not be problem. Return to my truck, I let a little air out of the 11.00 x 16 Michelin XL’s. These tires are the cats meow - something good actually does come from France. Again, I pull to yet another lever to my right, the truck walks forward in first gear low range. Down the slope, I pull to the left, leaving the right side of the Power Wagon on the road while finding somewhat solid ground on the other side of a run off ditch coming down the other slope. I see the Ford owner doubtfully shaking his head, commenting to the other driver. I smile to myself; secretly knowing that rear locker is going to make this all too easy. The Pyrenees reappears at the top of the slope, panting, legs a darker color. She looks at me and glances to her right at the other folks, then back at me. She gives me a “showoff look” as I climb the Power Wagon up the slippery, uneven line I have chosen then the dog disappears. The old Dodge makes it easily and I safely pull beyond the Ford and back onto the muddy roadway. Yes, I did allow a wink as I passed the doubter.

As I secure the recovery straps to the Dodge and the Ford. I comment it sure was nice of the Ford designers to have those two big tow hooks on the frame of his 4x4. He laughs. I continue my work and complain my Cummins Dodge dually 4x4 does not have them and that I had to have a receiver hitch installed on the front end for a pull point and portable winch. As much as he now appreciates the old Dodge, I comment that no truck is perfect or incapable of being stuck. However, I think my Power Wagon is pretty darn close.

The Ford owner climbs into his vehicle as I do mine. Idling ever so slowly forward, I take up most of the slack. I was able to reach solid ground by using two recovery straps. I honk, he waves and I proceed forward. I feel slight resistance and give the old flathead a little more pedal. The elasticity of the recovery straps does its job and the Ford lurches forward from its old position and back to terra firma. I stop and roll slightly backwards, releasing the tension on the straps. Gratitude is expressed once again and everyone is smiling. I call for the dog who has again disappeared to parts unknown. My neighbor in the Cadillac asks us to stick around to make sure he can make it through the bottom again.

He does not make it so I pull him up the other side with a recovery strap that HE secured to the front end. We all have a laugh or two, shake semi-muddy hands, except for my former gloved hands. They ask if I am up for the weekend since they may need help on the way out from the old Power Wagon. I tell them friends are coming up later in the day and that we will be around. The kids in the Caddy are crawling around the old Dodge, I tell them to come over later and we will all go for a ride. My offer is rewarded with huge youthful smiles.

Now where is that dog? Time to get this show back on the road. No pun intended.




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