Last week, I performed the usual routine: unplugged the car, started the motor, ignored the cold and swept the snow off the windows with a broom. Then I went back inside for about 20 minutes, waiting until the frozen air outside my door became thickened with emissions. I placed the toasty-warm, carbon-gasping car into gear and backed-up. Wallop. Crunch. Vroom. Halt. The car rolled over a white coffin then stopped. Trapped in my own driveway.
I鈥檝e been in the situation before. Years ago, when I worked in the British Columbian Rockies, my ancient Volvo 240 slid onto a patch of ice then front-ended into a snowbank. After several minutes of cursing and reversing, I went into the forest, tore off tree branches, pushed handfuls of twigs, sticks and dead leaves underneath the tires, tucked the car into reverse and escaped this icy hold. Another time, I drove a Chev Impala into a snowbank in Three Hills in -40 Celsius weather with the nearest towing company several kilometres away in Olds. I ripped some branches off a nearly-dead hedge then prayed for the best outcome. After two hours of rolling, reversing, forwarding then reversing again, I eventually spun the Impala out from its snare. But last week in the driveway, my trustworthy Ford refused to budge, so the next day, I paid $72 to Chuck鈥檚 Collison to have the car towed. If I鈥檇 spent about 20 minutes of shovelling snow from the drive, this situation could have been avoidable.
You think I might鈥檝e learned something from this idiotic episode, but two days later I drove my Ford into another snowy ensnarement. On the way to Fife Lake for a story, I stopped in Lisieux to take some photos of the beautiful, white-coated landscape drenched in sunlight. Naturally, I thought it would be a great decision to drive along a country road in search of some arresting views to capture with the Nikon.
I drove along this thoroughfare surrounded with gorgeous scenery, stopping once or twice to take some photos, not realizing I was manoeuvring along a private road. Eventually, I arrived at a gate blocking the way forward. I turned the car around with the intent of heading back onto Highway 2, but the fabulous Fusion slid off the road and plummeted halfway into a ditch. Branches, twigs and dead leaves couldn鈥檛 have helped me escape the tilted arrangement, with the backend inclined upwards and the car鈥檚 nose digging into snow.
I left the car, walked back to Lisieux in the cold and knocked onto the first door I saw with a massive truck parked outside. A man answered. I told him what happened to my car in excited tones. Without hesitation, he put his overalls and boots on then drove me out to the car. He hitched a chain and towing strap onto the Fusion then dragged the vehicle out from the ditch with ease.
After thanking him, I drove onwards to Fife Lake for a steak lunch, staying clear of snowbanks, icy patches and cow tracks repurposed as roads. Winter driving can be the stuff of nightmares, but sometimes helpful strangers with trucks, chains and towing straps can help the goofs like me who insist on driving mid-sized sedans on roads best suited for 4X4s.
