My Dog Ate My Homework...Last week Oregon had record snowfall, a full foot or more. For people who panic at a dusting of an inch of snow, this created complete havoc. I was blessedly on vacation on the heaviest snowfall day, which only meant I wasn't scheduled to be at the office. Which was a good thing.
You know how sometimes you wake up just because you sense something is wrong? At six in the morning I woke to that odd sensation. There was too much light in our bedroom. Someone had to be shining headlights into our driveway. And where was my husband? I then realized the room was freezing and the furnace hadn't turned on. I heard banging noises in the basement. My hub, the man who can fix anything, was undoubtedly trying to get the furnace going. That didn't explain the lights outside or the strange scraping noise coming from the road.
I pulled up the blinds to see a sight difficult to comprehend given that we live on a tiny dead-end rural road. A huge semi-trailer had jackknifed directly
in front of our driveway. The rear wheels rose completely off the ground, the front jammed into the woods that line the road. It completely blocked our driveway. I mumbled out loud, "This can't be good."
I shuffled downstairs where my husband sat, greasy and sweaty, with a pile of tools in front of our 40-year old furnace. "What's up with the truck outside?" I asked.
He scowled up at me. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm trying to fix this. "
Okaay. He'll find out soon enough. And I did want the furnace to be fixed. I traipsed back upstairs to get dressed and investigate. I thought how glad I was that didn't have to get to work that day. It would sound like the, "My dog ate my homework," excuse.
I heard the furnace rumble on. My husband is my hero.
Country LivingWe live in a unique area. Although we're only twenty minutes from the city of Portland, it's rural. Several of our neighbors are descendants of the original homesteaders. They have 80-acre tracts and their families have lived there for over 100 years. At the end of our little road the original log home of one of the families still stands, a tiny structure with a floor space little bigger than the square footage of a king sized bed. Our road is named after another family who still lives there. Their sprawling property has three homes; the original home and two others for the grown kids, their kids, and grandchildren. Plus they have vineyard and a small logging operation. Which brings me to the jackknifed truck.
This family sells firewood. Gary buys up wood, cuts it into firewood, and sells it all over the state. He transports it in semi-trucks. Semi-trucks are not good snow vehicles. Especially when the grown son driving neglects to put on chains. He got stuck while going up the road, in the direction of the dead-end, at 1:30 in the morning. That explains how the event occurred, without all the colorful language from father to son.
With the front of the truck facing away from the road's access, this posed a problem. How would a tow truck get in to pull it out?
This is where having a unique neighborhood is a blessing. Another neighbor (there are only 8 homes on the road) owns an exercise equipment company. His estate, complete with helicopter pad, boasts a long private drive. On the backside of his property is an orchard with another gravel road that goes to another dirt road that leads to a paved public road. Got that? If his driveway intersected with the orchard road, and that could be plowed, that could be the route for the tow truck. Fortunately, they did. He immediately gave permission for access, and Gary brought out his tractor to plow a path. It's really convenient to have your own snowplow. I now have snowplow envy.
Meantime, my husband and I discovered that our internet access was not working either. Living in the country, where there is no DSL, we get our access from a line-of-sight tower from a nearby hill. The truck was positioned directly in the line-of-sight. This posed more issues. I attempted to access work on line because the staffer I'd put in charge of covering for me was stuck at his house with a broken pipe, with water all over his townhouse, waiting for the plumber to arrive.
Not only was I trapped physically, I couldn't work remotely either. I was sure I was the only person who ever said, "I can't get this done because a semi-truck is blocking my internet access." I thought about that little log home up the road. The family who lived there may have frozen their butts off in the winter but at least they weren't crippled by not having their internet access work.
Safety FirstMid-morning arrived and all the neighbors hiked out to survey the scene. For folks who had already been housebound due to the heavy snowfall for several days, it became a social event. We got caught up on family news. The mail carrier arrived and personally handed out mail to everyone since he couldn't get to the mailboxes. A line of men formed in the truck and on the ground to unload all the firewood from the truck to lighten the load. They heaved from one set of hands to another, tossing the logs into a pile. A mountain of firewood formed on our front lawn.
A roar came from the distance, and a massive red tow truck lumbered down the road, having successfully traveled the circuitous route in. The owner, a grizzled older man with sparkling eyes, and a younger man, surveyed the situation. "This isn't safe," the grizzled man announced, looking with alarm at the men in the truck unloading the wood as the truck tilted to the side.
They hooked up an elaborate cabling system, connecting the stuck semi to the tow truck and to two of our trees to stablize it until all the wood was unloaded. Gary sighed. Safety cost $500 an hour. My husband reminded him that if someone got crushed it would cost a lot more.
Finally, late in the afternoon, the tow truck yanked the semi from the woods and our driveway. The temperature had risen, and large chunks of snow fell from the fir trees. The snow and ice softened on the road. Our internet access returned. Things felt like they were returning to normal.
CommunityNow the snows are nearly gone. Oregon is having more predictable weather, which here means incessant rain, what we charmingly call, "Oregon sunshine." Our next challenge will be the high winds and flooding that will undoubtedly occur on the low farmlands that lead to our road. We're prepared for the power outages that come when trees blow down over the power lines. We know that our road will be the last one to get power restored because there are so few of us. Then we and our neighbors will check on each other to make sure we've got enough gas for the generators we all have to get us through days without power. We'll laugh and trade stories together about our hardships.
I'm glad to be part of the adventure!
(Have a snow story of your own? Post your comment!)