More fun New Mexico car stories. This time with ice.
So! What a day.
It's been twomonths weeks since we started the winter break. Things happened - long drives to faraway states, screaming (in a good way) cousins running around together, Santa came, etc - and then a week back here, wherein we actually, for once, made some headway on getting this place unpacked. (Yes, we've been here months. Don't ask.)
Today was the day we get back to normal. Today was the day Little Big Girl goes back to school, Tiny Person heads back to preschool, Spousal and I actually show up at our (respective) work.
Today is the day (instead) I slide the car RIGHT OFF THE DRIVEWAY and have it half-tipped into our steep mountain yard, the tow truck comes and slides itself down our steep-ass street, and is currently still sitting at the bottom of the hill, (because even his pal the other tow truck couldn't get him out either) and I slide in a whole other car all the way down the hill too.
Yes. What a day.
I take pride in knowing, that in a town that eventually shut down for snow, I was the first! I was the first to take a snow day! I started mine at 8:30! Brahahahaha!
(As the car slid over the edge of the driveway, and starts sliding down the yard sideways, and I'm . . . fruitlessly trying to control the slide, watching in my rear view mirror as the back end slides toward the two trees we have in the yard, worried the car will take them out, let alone what damage that will do to the car, a foot and a half high curb approaching in front of us, Tiny Person is in the back seat, excited to be going back to school.
The car, finally, slides to a stop, just inches in front of the trees - we've missed them. I sit there, on an angle, catching my breath. Also, afraid if I move the slide will start again, like in the movies. Or, God forbid, is the car going to tip over? (I call from the driveway. Spousal? I slid off the driveway. I know, I saw. I think the car is going to tip over. It's not going to tip over. It feels like it's going to tip over. It's not. How do you know? I'm looking at it out the kitchen window. It won't tip over. Okay . . . we're coming back in.)
Eventually, before the phone call, Tiny Person pipes up from the back: Why aren't we going? We're stuck, honey. We slid off the driveway. And she says: Dawn! ("darn") I don't get to go to preschool. Uh, sorry. Yeah, no.)
There were many more eventful events. Ohhoho! Many more! Before skidding to the bottom of the hill, the tow truck actually did pull my car out of the tilted yard. (Which was not easy. And, um, scary.) Only to ask me to drive my car across the street on my own - at which time MY car slid down my street. I came inches - inches! - from sliding into my neighbor's yard on the other side of the street - before stopping. So then the tow truck pulled me up again. (It was on a little side pull-out, perpendicular to the hill.)
Oh, and then! Well, this may not be in the right order. But then! At some point! The tow truck driver pulled forward a little bit on the turn-out - and his truck started sliding. And he threw it in reverse, gassed it, and the chains started flapping, and the tires tried to grab hold, and the truck went sideways more - and one of his front tires slid off the turn-out and onto a really steep ravine. The other tires caught, and he did not plunge down the ravine.
(As a little backup info - you know, now that we're mostly through this story - it rained all yesterday. RAINED. It should not rain in January. In the mountains. In New Mexico. And then last night, it froze. This would be more normal January behavior. And then it snowed. Also more normal. But we're left with - solid ice, covered by snow. Not unheard of, but rare. And treacherous. Add mountain streets. You get the picture.)
So getting the truck tire (and that part of the truck) out of the ravine and over the curb - he had to back up forcefully, the chains on his tires spinning, the huge truck whirling all over the place - all DIRECTLY TOWARDS MY CAR - which was behind him in the pull-out. And I could not back up. Well, I could. A little. But not so far that I was back in the street, which was sheer ice, snowy, and steep, at which point I would go sliding down hill again, directly into my OTHER car, which he had also pulled out of my driveway (because I was afraid if I drove it out, it would slide directly into my real car) and which, while I was "steering", once he let go and I tried to park it, it started sliding and did in fact slide all the way DOWN THE STREET at which point I got it stopped just feet from the bottom.
(Thought in head - when I hit the curb at the bottom of this hill, will the car flip over backwards? Or will it jump the curb, speed down the steep ravine, hit a few trees, and then stop? Or roll, perhaps? Am I coordinated enough to get out of the moving car before then?) Luckily it stopped against the side curb before I hit the bottom.
(And, for those counting, YES, we have two vehicles currently stuck at the bottom of our street - mine, and the tow truck company's. Truck.)
So, where was I? Yes, the tow truck was at this point in front of me on the turnout. Struggling and spinning and engine roaring, attempting to pull wayward tire off mountain, over curb, feet in front of me. As he did so, I'd back up. And then freak out and backup a little more. Weighing exactly how fast he was coming at me and out of control with my insane desire not to go slidding down my street. Sideways.
Yeah.
He, too, right in time popped the tire over the curb, turned the wheel, came to a stop, and did not, in fact, take out the front of my car with the huge metal T-thing he has hanging off the back of the truck.
So at this point, my one car is down the street, stuck against the curb. My real car, so to speak, is safely out of the yard - trees - icy street deal and parked on a turn out. And the tow truck is no longer bordering on plunging head first into the woods, and is situated next to mine. Okay! I say. Thanks! Actually, I pay him next. As he's leaving he says, I'm kind of worried. This isn't really done yet.
I watched as he pulled the truck out of the turn-out, and promptly started sliding down our street. He went sideways, but got it stopped. Tried a few more times, slid even further.
Three hours later, and one other tow truck, and cables up and down our street (and, horribly, cables at one point around the tree I narrowly missed), and a lot of sliding and gear gnashing and street-tearing later - we would check in once in awhile, offer services, snow shovels, shovels - but what could we really do? - the tow truck is stuck, all the way down at the bottom of our street. Right next to my other car. The tow truck drivers gone.
Oh! And another really fun part about today. Before the tow truck came - before it was ordered, because my motor club only knows people who live in the valley, not on the mountain, and those people - once you talk to them in person - don't actually know where I live (in a local neighborhood here) or have four-wheel drive, or think they can handle the job (turns out, good point) - the school calls. School's canceled! Come get your child! Or do you want her on the bus? Which may not be running.
Quick call to local companies. Agree to pay myself (club to reimburse, logistics obtained), tow truck on way, has to put on chains, not here yet, school calls again. Buses not running! You must come. Working on it. Send Spousal? Spousal sick. In bed. His car in garage. BLOCKED BY MY TWO STUCK CARS. (This was, obviously, earlier in the story.)
Beautiful, friendly neighbor lady (and friend)(who clearly does not actualy live ON THIS STREET) volunteers to bring LBG home when she gets her children. Good thing because when they arrive, we are really not even close to the end of the sliding parts of this story.
(Teacher (knowing car situation): Your friend Beautiful Neighbor Lady is here, and she says she could bring LBG home; is that okay?
Me (watching tow truck take nose dive off the end of the pullout): Oh! That would be great! Please thank her. Oh, and please tell her - don't come down my street!
Teacher: What's that? Don't come down your street?
Voice on phone behind teacher: mumble mumble mumble
Teacher (laughing): She says, meet her at the top; she's not coming down your street!
Smart beautiful neighbor lady friend.)
So now you know the near-middle, and a lot of the actual middle (sliding! more sliding!) and the beginning (8:30 am! driveway!) and the end (tow truck at bottom of hill - for the night) and there you have it.
What a day.
Other fun New Mexico car stories, this time in summer: And the car disappears in sand
It's been two
Today was the day we get back to normal. Today was the day Little Big Girl goes back to school, Tiny Person heads back to preschool, Spousal and I actually show up at our (respective) work.
Today is the day (instead) I slide the car RIGHT OFF THE DRIVEWAY and have it half-tipped into our steep mountain yard, the tow truck comes and slides itself down our steep-ass street, and is currently still sitting at the bottom of the hill, (because even his pal the other tow truck couldn't get him out either) and I slide in a whole other car all the way down the hill too.
Yes. What a day.
I take pride in knowing, that in a town that eventually shut down for snow, I was the first! I was the first to take a snow day! I started mine at 8:30! Brahahahaha!
(As the car slid over the edge of the driveway, and starts sliding down the yard sideways, and I'm . . . fruitlessly trying to control the slide, watching in my rear view mirror as the back end slides toward the two trees we have in the yard, worried the car will take them out, let alone what damage that will do to the car, a foot and a half high curb approaching in front of us, Tiny Person is in the back seat, excited to be going back to school.
The car, finally, slides to a stop, just inches in front of the trees - we've missed them. I sit there, on an angle, catching my breath. Also, afraid if I move the slide will start again, like in the movies. Or, God forbid, is the car going to tip over? (I call from the driveway. Spousal? I slid off the driveway. I know, I saw. I think the car is going to tip over. It's not going to tip over. It feels like it's going to tip over. It's not. How do you know? I'm looking at it out the kitchen window. It won't tip over. Okay . . . we're coming back in.)
Eventually, before the phone call, Tiny Person pipes up from the back: Why aren't we going? We're stuck, honey. We slid off the driveway. And she says: Dawn! ("darn") I don't get to go to preschool. Uh, sorry. Yeah, no.)
There were many more eventful events. Ohhoho! Many more! Before skidding to the bottom of the hill, the tow truck actually did pull my car out of the tilted yard. (Which was not easy. And, um, scary.) Only to ask me to drive my car across the street on my own - at which time MY car slid down my street. I came inches - inches! - from sliding into my neighbor's yard on the other side of the street - before stopping. So then the tow truck pulled me up again. (It was on a little side pull-out, perpendicular to the hill.)
Oh, and then! Well, this may not be in the right order. But then! At some point! The tow truck driver pulled forward a little bit on the turn-out - and his truck started sliding. And he threw it in reverse, gassed it, and the chains started flapping, and the tires tried to grab hold, and the truck went sideways more - and one of his front tires slid off the turn-out and onto a really steep ravine. The other tires caught, and he did not plunge down the ravine.
(As a little backup info - you know, now that we're mostly through this story - it rained all yesterday. RAINED. It should not rain in January. In the mountains. In New Mexico. And then last night, it froze. This would be more normal January behavior. And then it snowed. Also more normal. But we're left with - solid ice, covered by snow. Not unheard of, but rare. And treacherous. Add mountain streets. You get the picture.)
So getting the truck tire (and that part of the truck) out of the ravine and over the curb - he had to back up forcefully, the chains on his tires spinning, the huge truck whirling all over the place - all DIRECTLY TOWARDS MY CAR - which was behind him in the pull-out. And I could not back up. Well, I could. A little. But not so far that I was back in the street, which was sheer ice, snowy, and steep, at which point I would go sliding down hill again, directly into my OTHER car, which he had also pulled out of my driveway (because I was afraid if I drove it out, it would slide directly into my real car) and which, while I was "steering", once he let go and I tried to park it, it started sliding and did in fact slide all the way DOWN THE STREET at which point I got it stopped just feet from the bottom.
(Thought in head - when I hit the curb at the bottom of this hill, will the car flip over backwards? Or will it jump the curb, speed down the steep ravine, hit a few trees, and then stop? Or roll, perhaps? Am I coordinated enough to get out of the moving car before then?) Luckily it stopped against the side curb before I hit the bottom.
(And, for those counting, YES, we have two vehicles currently stuck at the bottom of our street - mine, and the tow truck company's. Truck.)
So, where was I? Yes, the tow truck was at this point in front of me on the turnout. Struggling and spinning and engine roaring, attempting to pull wayward tire off mountain, over curb, feet in front of me. As he did so, I'd back up. And then freak out and backup a little more. Weighing exactly how fast he was coming at me and out of control with my insane desire not to go slidding down my street. Sideways.
Yeah.
He, too, right in time popped the tire over the curb, turned the wheel, came to a stop, and did not, in fact, take out the front of my car with the huge metal T-thing he has hanging off the back of the truck.
So at this point, my one car is down the street, stuck against the curb. My real car, so to speak, is safely out of the yard - trees - icy street deal and parked on a turn out. And the tow truck is no longer bordering on plunging head first into the woods, and is situated next to mine. Okay! I say. Thanks! Actually, I pay him next. As he's leaving he says, I'm kind of worried. This isn't really done yet.
I watched as he pulled the truck out of the turn-out, and promptly started sliding down our street. He went sideways, but got it stopped. Tried a few more times, slid even further.
Three hours later, and one other tow truck, and cables up and down our street (and, horribly, cables at one point around the tree I narrowly missed), and a lot of sliding and gear gnashing and street-tearing later - we would check in once in awhile, offer services, snow shovels, shovels - but what could we really do? - the tow truck is stuck, all the way down at the bottom of our street. Right next to my other car. The tow truck drivers gone.
Oh! And another really fun part about today. Before the tow truck came - before it was ordered, because my motor club only knows people who live in the valley, not on the mountain, and those people - once you talk to them in person - don't actually know where I live (in a local neighborhood here) or have four-wheel drive, or think they can handle the job (turns out, good point) - the school calls. School's canceled! Come get your child! Or do you want her on the bus? Which may not be running.
Quick call to local companies. Agree to pay myself (club to reimburse, logistics obtained), tow truck on way, has to put on chains, not here yet, school calls again. Buses not running! You must come. Working on it. Send Spousal? Spousal sick. In bed. His car in garage. BLOCKED BY MY TWO STUCK CARS. (This was, obviously, earlier in the story.)
Beautiful, friendly neighbor lady (and friend)(who clearly does not actualy live ON THIS STREET) volunteers to bring LBG home when she gets her children. Good thing because when they arrive, we are really not even close to the end of the sliding parts of this story.
(Teacher (knowing car situation): Your friend Beautiful Neighbor Lady is here, and she says she could bring LBG home; is that okay?
Me (watching tow truck take nose dive off the end of the pullout): Oh! That would be great! Please thank her. Oh, and please tell her - don't come down my street!
Teacher: What's that? Don't come down your street?
Voice on phone behind teacher: mumble mumble mumble
Teacher (laughing): She says, meet her at the top; she's not coming down your street!
Smart beautiful neighbor lady friend.)
So now you know the near-middle, and a lot of the actual middle (sliding! more sliding!) and the beginning (8:30 am! driveway!) and the end (tow truck at bottom of hill - for the night) and there you have it.
What a day.
Other fun New Mexico car stories, this time in summer: And the car disappears in sand
6 Comments:
No way! What a nightmare, Krisco! Mountains are really nice, but they're uhhh . . . steep.
Yeah. You forget the whole "ice sucks" thing when it's a pretty summer day. Everyone should live in the mountains! Wheeeee! And then winter hits. : )
oh my gosh. what a day!! i'm glad it all got figured out in the end.
YIKES, Sis. I didn't know you had such an ordeal. Glad to hear you and the little one are okay. What a day, what a day. Lisa
So.. are you considering becoming snow birds? Or are you too young for that?
See you in Sun City!
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