Tom Sonday

We live on a very large swamp (taxed as lakefront.)  Weather permitting, there’s an annual neighborhood celebration of Michigan winter atop the lake, called Winterfest.

Last year a neighbor, we’ll call him “Candle”, worked hours with his small tractor sculpting numerous skating and hockey rinks, and a lovely ice golf course.  The weather turned unusually warm the night before Winterfest, melting the snow atop the ice and leaving about six inches of water on it.  Winterfest 2009 was called off, and we all felt bad for Candle, who (along with others) had put in so much effort.

Undeterred by last year’s weather oddity, and shrugging off questions whether the ice was thick enough to be doing it yet, Candle and bright orange tractor spent several hours atop the lake yesterday clearing a lovely rink and paths.  He even took off today to polish it even more.

I had the morning off work, as I was having a hard time shrugging off the widowhood doldrums that have found me lately.   But, a knock at my door mid-a.m. made me realize I have no problems.  There’s always someone in worse shape than you are, and I’d just found him.  At my door was neighbor Candle.  He and his tractor had just broken through the ice at the swamp’s edge.  He was seeking permission to drive his Jeep through my yard to get next door to pull it out.

Permission — granted.  Camera — loaded.  Here’s what I found when I went down there:

John was still grinning at the time, fairly confident that he could get the rails under the front tires and pull it right out.

That didn’t work too well as the swamp, er lake, has a very soft bottom.  John then did what I do when I’m in a pinch; he called 1-800-Wayne.

Wayne came home for lunch, and the two of them got the rails in place … sort of.  Things kept shifting and it was difficult to keep the wheels straight.

But, they finally got everything in place.  Well, almost.  John was turning the Jeep around to get more pulling power when it slid into the soft, soggy ground that’s on either side of the path.

We then spent over an hour dislodging that vehicle, which involved shoveling, rails, muscle, rocking, and John reminding the vehicle that it is a Jeep and it never gets stuck on TV commercials.  BTW, I salute John and Wayne for keeping a great sense of humor through what was a day of setback after setback, like …

… when the tow strap broke, about 3 p.m.  It was then John commented that Tommy is clutching his side in heaven because it hurts so much from laughing at us helpless mortals here on earth.

With only a couple of hours of daylight left, John called a tow truck, and I called my nephew Jay who’s incredibly handy and capable.  We figured whomever could get here first would get the job.

Both parties got there about the same time, and then spent some amount of time surveying the situation and shaking their heads.  The initial plan – to pull with a cable from the tow truck — slid away like Candle’s Jeep, because the cable wasn’t long enough to snake down the steep hill.

The team conferred, and figured Jay’s truck could pull it out as the tow trucks (there were now three of them) couldn’t drive across my yard, but Jay’s truck allegedly could.  If Jay’s truck got stuck, well, the tow trucks figured they could pull it out.  Good thing both parties showed up at the same time, as both parties were needed.

Pictures are worth thousands of words, but they don’t show the numerous times the jack slipped off the icy boards and into the lake as they tried to jack up the front tires, the chain-sawing of the dock to get it out of the way, the precarious configuration of 2 x 4s criss-crossed to provide leverage, or the group of guys teeter-tottering on 2x4s extended over logs as they tried to lift up the tires enough to get the rails under them.

I left about 6; it was too dark to take pictures and it didn’t look very promising.

I should’ve stayed!  Fifteen minutes later nephew Jay let me know that they’d gotten the tractor out.  He was going to stop in for dinner and to get warm.

When he hadn’t shown up by 6:30, I looked out my back window.  Jay’s truck was stuck on the left of my yard; the tow truck was busy backing into position on the right of my yard.

Shortly after 7 my very cold (and very tall) nephew burst in my front door.  His truck was free, but he had some place he needed to be.  I gave him several slabs of ham just out of the oven, which he downed like my dog does — without chewing.  When you’re 20 years old, have spent the afternoon in the cold, and stand 6’7″-ish, you can pack in a lot of food quickly.

Tomorrow, when the sun comes out again, I’ll update with a photograph of the tractor now on dry land.  And meanwhile, I’ll count the blessings, like that no one was hurt, that I live in a neighborhood that will pitch in to pull you out of a swamp or the doldrums, and that I don’t have any leftover ham.