Found some photos of my good ol’ 1951 3/4-ton L-120 ’Binder (the one I wrote about here) under a blanket of snow right around the time we moved from New Auburn to the farm in Fall Creek. The plow tracks remind me that my friend and fellow Nobbern firefighter Eric used to plow for me when I was away. Thanks again, Eric.
This is the star of Truck: A Love Story.
Typing gingerly. More on that later.
It was a digging out morning. Zero degrees and all the heavy snow carved by a wind that pressed and howled the whole night through, abating only as the sun rose. Some standard shoveling, a couple of sled-loads of firewood, a slight delay while I heated the starter so the plow truck would start, then that fun pioneering-lite moment where you drop the blade and blast through the unmarked drifts, out the driveway toward signs of civilization. The heater blasting, the toddler jabbering in the car seat, waving her mittens and talking happy nonsense.
The crew from Wisconsin Public Television’s “Here And Now” rolled up here a while back and shot me yapping about winter. Since then most all of the snow melted…until about two hours ago whereupon the white stuff came whomping down. Yes, this was a whomping snow. Heavy, wet, and wind-whipped. Dropped on us like waterlogged goosedown. Gotta plow the driveway in the morning, although that’s fun because I have two sweet blue-eyed co-pilots who treat the whole works like a cut-rate carnival ride.
In the meantime I’ve moved my EMS kit and reflective vest from the car to the plow truck in case the pager goes off in the dark hours.
Anyway, with the chicken coop all drifted in, it’s appropriate that the winter essay will air tomorrow night (and re-air Sunday). Program times here.
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