Cheri Leach and I had planned to get together for breakfast today, but last night she wrote, I don’t know what the roads will be like tomorrow morning, but I am either making up a day in a school OR trying to catch up on paperwork. Let’s look for a time that isn’t so snowy!! We still haven’t been plowed out today. What a mess.
I, of course, understood completely. I wrote back.
I have been plowed out and I still:
- Got stuck in my garage
- Got stuck in the driveway at the Eastport Market
Got unstuck from both PDQ, but yes – What A Mess.
Cheri found this hilarious. She wanted to know how on earth I managed to get stuck in the garage. So I explained, in email-speak, as I was running out of steam.
Y’know how you can get a whole lot of slush frozen in the wheelwells? And how, when you stop, it can fall off? Well . . Pull car into small garage. Button up garage snugly. Go inside. Heat from engine warms garage slightly – at least enough to release large slushpiles behind tires. Howling blizzard from hell blows icy winds all night, freezing garage and fallen slushpiles. Open garage door this afternoon, turn on engine, put car in reverse, apply accelerator in approved manner, and . . . Nothing. Car would not move in approved manner until I had removed some of the frozen slushpile mess. Do not blame car. If car had moved in unapproved manner, would most likely have shot off at angle, destroying southerly garage wall and dumping car into mosquito nursery across driveway.
OK, so Cheri forwards this to Nancy Hellman, knowing that Nancy, the intrepid coordinator of volunteers for Raven Hill, will be deeply amused. Nancy, you see, lives in far boonier boonies than I, cooks on a woodstove, cans venison stew, and . . . well, let me just quote her email for you:
Before you put your car away you have to sweep it off – gads – this is just funny now that your vehicle is released from the garage – I have my vehicle in a lean-to and it keeps off some of the snow – did work when it was just frost I was not scraping – our roads need to be plowed again – have not been out for three days – really hope to escape today – appreciate Cheri sending on your fun e-mail – snow here is past my knees – time to get out snowshoes – errands late this afternoon and we are going for it – assume in your location you must have drifts from lake – snow-blower or shovel – Glenn plows and I shovel (when I am up for it) – need to broom off bird feeders – porches – no fun when a storm lasts this long – GRIN and thanks for a good way to be up – Nancy
Sigh. All my friends buck me up. They have to, or I could never even pretent to keep up with them. (In my defense, I am substantially shorter than most of my friends, and must trot along double-time. Snow up to her knees indeed.) So now I must brush off my car AND, I might add, knock off the slush from the wheelwells, before I put it away in the garage, which would be right after I get home from a white-knuckled trip home along the wind-swept snow-devil-infested tundra of western Antrim County. At least I know how to do these things, even though I am not fond of actually doing them. (Sorry, PJ.) I have been taught proper techniques by other buckers-up.
This brings us to the introductory photo. (You want to know about the photo, right? Well, I would if I were you.) One day last winter, I was in a parking lot in Traverse City, glaring at the huge slushpiles frozen into my wheelwells and attacking them ineffectually with a shovel. A car door slammed behind me, and I heard a familiar voice. “Here, this is what you need!” I turned, and there was Eileen Wallick, brandishing a large weapon. (It is not as unusual as you might think to run into other denizens of the Township brandishing weapons in distant parking lots. We are a migratory bunch. I digress.)
Upon inspection, Eileen’s weapon turned out to be a handy mallet, which she applied smartly to my fenders, rap rap rap. It knocked the slushpiles off without destroying the fenders. So now the well-equipped vehicle includes: blanket, shovel, spare socks and gloves, windshield de-icer, emergency dog crate . . . and mallets. Now you know.
Torch Lake Views 
Scott Thomas Photography
December 11, 2009
Ah, Gerry, I am totally enjoying this. Gave me a good laugh but, not at your expense. As I have been stuck in my garage just has you were before.
Luckily, the snow hit north of my location this time. Still got the bone chilling winds though. Going to be perfect for Christmas tree browsing tomorrow. The hot chocolate will taste good afterward.
Gerry
December 11, 2009
You must be back from Florida and ready to resume life in the Freshwater Nation. Thank you for the reminder that many of life’s little bumps in the road–or in the garage–can be smoothed away with a good cup of hot chocolate.
p.j. grath
December 11, 2009
This was a timely post, Gerry. (Gee, could I say anything MORE OBVIOUS???) The wind blow a lot of cold snow under our car, adding to what was already there when we tried to drive through it. I’ll add a mallet to the emergency survival kid we drag up the hill tomorrow, when we will give it the old college try once again. We are pretty old dogs for the old college try, but what else can we do? I told David today that the pioneers had to do plenty of things that didn’t work. He thought that was a pretty funny remark.
Gerry
December 11, 2009
Of all the things people say about me, “timely” is–well, let’s just say it isn’t real common and leave it at that. I’m glad to hear I achieved timeliness for once, particularly if I send you into the frozen wilderness properly armed with a mallet. I am certain you and David can still give it the old college try. It’s something like riding a bicycle.
It could be worse. In the course of reading about the families who settled hereabouts after the Civil War, I found this story of Mary Keffe. While her husband, John, was at war, she was at home with four little children. She worked desperately to “keep the wolf from the door.” For one winter’s fuel, she waded waist deep in the bay, gathering driftwood, then cutting it. (From Grace Hooper’s Pioneer Notes, p. 203)
I tell you, these folks were resilient. We won’t even get into the 800 pound bear.
loreen niewenhuis
December 11, 2009
Good tip about the mallet! Thanks.
We got slush, then lots of snow in SW Michigan. My son was off school today and yesterday, it was so bad. Not that he’s complaining…
Stay warm! Hello to Cowboy and Miss Sadie.
Gerry
December 11, 2009
Hello Loreen! I’m glad the mallet will be helpful. It’s really remarkable that all of us still have power, but how nice to be a little less snowbound than the McCormicks were at their lighthouse! (Folks, you can read about Loreen’s volunteer stint at the GT lighthouse on her Lake Trek blog: http://laketrek.blogspot.com/2009/12/lighthouse-museum.html)
The woodstove is humming along as we, er, speak. You stay warm, too. Miss Sadie and the Cowboy are gratified to be remembered, and wish you a cheery hello in return. It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago we walked along the beach in bright sunlight.
katherine
December 11, 2009
Way back when, I lived in Royal Oak and had a tin can of a car… went out one morning and there had been the lightest dusting of snow when I had gotten home the night before. Got in the car, started it up, put it into gear, let out the clutch and nothing. Sat and said humph, put it in gear again, let out the clutch and again nothing. I didn’t say humph that time… One of my neighbors came over to see what the problem was and he, after much looking and harumphing himself, said ” I think your car’s frozen to the pavement and doesn’t have enough power to get itself unstuck” and sure enough, it was. I forget what kind of car that was.
Gerry
December 11, 2009
It is amazing how these things happen. At least my poor car wasn’t stuck to the floor. It just, um, couldn’t manage to negotiate the small mountains of ice behind the tires . . .
Cindy Lou
December 13, 2009
Fun in winter wonderland, hey? 🙂
Gerry
December 13, 2009
There is simply no end to the excitement.