Every year, we have a transportation mishap around the holidays. In 2005, we got lost in Brooklyn (actually it was early 2006 but I’m counting it at 2005). In 2006, we drove from Chicago to Wisconsin through the snowstorm of 2006 without the aid of windshield wipers. This year, our mishap was more innocuous, more immediately dangerous, and happened over two days and on two snowmobiles.
For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of driving a snowmobile (I was one of them), they are like motorcycles except dropped low to the ground, with tracks and ski sleds instead of wheels. They go fast speed, leave the driver unprotected and for an extra zing of the danger hot sauce, they kind of look like toys.
With the “shit-ton” of snow (I’ve now learned that “shit-ton” is equivalent to 15 inches in less than 24 hours) we got, the farm was basically just one big snowdrift with so much snow piled up, that you had no idea how much far it was down to the earth.
Mary Milan and I were told two things before we went out: don’t get the snowmobiles stuck and try not to get lost because it was getting dark. I took my cell phone just in case of the latter.
We got dressed in warm clothes – coveralls, sweaters, and coats – hopped on our snowmobiles, hit the throttle and were off, speeding through the snow squall with the bitter wind biting at our faces.
Then about 20 yards ahead, Mary Milan came to a dead stop. I slowed down on the approach just in time to see her get off the snowmobile to walk toward me. I took out my cell phone and snapped this picture:
Her snowmobile was stuck.
We tried everything – lifting it, rocking it, pulling it – but we couldn’t get it out. Our only hope was to ride my snowmobile back to the homestead a half mile west to get some help. However, since I was right behind her, I was in the same snow track which got her stuck.
We twisted the steering handle all the way to the right and gunned it. And it went. It fact, it sort of flew out of control and crashed into another snow bank. It too was now stuck.
At this point, Mary Milan fell. I’d to think it was out of despair but in actuality, I think it was just that she stepped in a thigh high snowdrift.
It was so cold that the battery in my cell phone began to freeze. When we left the house, it was on full charge. By the time we were stuck, it beeped the low battery warning.
I began to understand how people die in these weather conditions.
Though it was getting dark, we could still see the house, about a half mile away, through the storm.
We started walking.
It was a blast riding through the zero degree snow squall but walking through it was no fun at all. You do not want.
It was dreadful.
We finally made it back and made her brother and brother-in-law go back out to unstuck the snowmobiles, which they were more than happy to oblige. It took them maybe 10 minutes to hoof it out there in the dark, unstuck the vehicles, and ride back. They’re fucking outdoorsy and shit.
The next day, as if we didn’t have enough, Mary Milan and I decided to go out for another snowmobile ride. This time, we were armed with the new nugget of snowmobile training, “when in doubt, gun it.”
And it helped. We raced through the Milan woods, ducking low hanging tree branches, and sped up and down the long roads near her house. Mary Milan hit about 70 while I was only brave enough to go 50 before the vehicle felt like it would hurtle me back to the future, or at least straight into a hospital room.
On our last run, we sped across one of the large fields that in the spring is used to grow rows of corn, now a snow dune, skipping over the surface. It was fun.
Then, up ahead, I saw Mary Milan shoot hit a snow bank, and just barely land on the road. I saw that I was approaching the same snow bank, which because of all the plowing, took the shape of a ramp.
Five words came to mind, “When in doubt, gun it” and shit if I wasn’t “in doubt.”
So I gunned it.
I shot into the air, during which, I thought I entered the Matrix. As it all slowed, I was sure I was going to get hurt, it was just a choice of staying on and getting hurt really bad or jumping off the vehicle and getting hurt “less badly”.
I decided to jump off but as I prepared to use the bullet time to get into a jump position, the vehicle landed the gravel road, front end first, then back. We had made it.
Not quite believing it, I did a quick self check and with the exception of banging my right leg on the snowmobile upon landing, it was about as perfect of a landing as it could have been.
Mary Milan was up ahead looking back certain that she would watch me crash. “What did you want me to do? I couldn’t warn you,” she later said.
As it turned out, she had a much more dangerous landing. Not expecting the ramp to shoot her into the air, her snowmobile actually began flipping as she neared landing. With her dancer’s grace (and quick ass thinking), she stuck her right leg out and pushed off from the ground as the vehicle came down, righting the landing.
So yeay, we’re still alive!
And yeay, this is our 500th post!
