Thursday August 29, 2019 by WannaskaWriter

Sven's New Avocation

Part 1

"‘Lo?"

"Yah Sven! Dis ‘ere’s yer neighbor, Also Bjorn Sveden. ‘ow ya been? 'aven't seen you fer avile."

"Yah ...?"
 

"Vell, I vas vunderin’ if’n you’d be intrestad in doin’ some tractor drivin’ fer me and me dad, Bjorn Sveden. Ve lost our tractor driver Tracy vatsisname, to dat dam toy factory, truck drivin’ for dem, an’ ve need anudder driver, purdy quick. Ve vas t’inkin’ ‘bout you, mebbe?"

Typical Palmville tractor

"If’n you vas t’inkin’ ‘bout me, yer disperate I’m knowin’. Did everbody else say, ‘no’? Even me vife, dun’t t’ink of me for no yobs, cuz I’m retired you know. I verked meself into dis ‘ere state at da toy factory fer over t’irty’tree years til all I can do gud, iss drink tew Extra Stouts a night after five oh clock pee em, and vatch Youtube videos on me computer in dis ‘ere basement relivin’ me glory days as a fookin’ forklift driver, pardon me French, and ‘ere all dis ‘ere time afterverd, you twos ‘ave been t’inkin’ of me to mebbe drive yur tractor? I t’ink nut."
 

Bulk Milktruck

Forklift tracks

 "Ve 'ave, Sven! Ve ‘ave! Bjorn ‘memberd you ver a bulkmilk truck driver you vas sayin’ vun time, dats vy, an' yewst to handlin’ big rigs ‘n all, so yer abit better den nuthin’ in our book, eh, evun if’n yer old and slow now. Ve vill train yew ‘ow to do da yob. It’s easy. Ve are patient sorta guys. Ve like old pepple."
 

"Vell, I ain’t been doin’ nuthin’ much since Knorr’s death, ‘cept’n mowin’ da lawn an’ tryin’ ta stay outa da me vife’s vay ven she’ll let me. I took a roadtrip to da cities, vit’ Ula an’ T’oralf Yosephson tree veeks ago. T’oralf vas ‘eadin’ back to verk on da boats. Ula an’ I flew back on Butt Cheek Barelines ta Tuff Rubber Balls. Yew otta do dat yerse’f sumtime, Bjorn, gettavay frum dem dam cows, yew ‘ear vat I’m sayin? Milkin’ cows vill put yew inta a early grave."
 

"Ve donut ‘ave cows no more, Sven. No mooin’ ‘ere, no mo’ fer ni on tew years, I’m t’inkin’. Me dad, Bjorn, vun day, up an’ said, Ve’r dun vit dese dam cows, git dem outa ‘ere! An’ out dey vent, yust like dat. Da parlors are dry an’ da stalls are empty. Dere shits ‘ard as stone in da gutters. Evun da flies and pigeons ar ‘omeless. No more mooin’ ‘ere, an’ ‘ardly a cat ‘bout da place.
 

No more cows? Not even a steer to fatt’n or sucklin’ caf to bu’cher in da fall? Dere’s been cows on dat place since 1897!
 

No moo iss ‘eard ‘ere no more, nut a vun. I pickt sum cow ‘air outa splinterd board in da old barn a munt’ ago vit no more regret den ven I flew ina rage afta gittin’ slapped in da face by Number Twelve’s shitty tail and I broke a milkhouse broom handle ‘cross ‘er back. Ve dunt miss dem dam cows. 

Life iss pleasant now. Dad an’ mum are happier tew, dere t'inkin' on takin' a drive sout' dis vinter. Like a 'oney moon, ya know. Dey spent dere first vun in da barn milkin' cows, right off. Den came Astrid, Birger, and me, yust like da milkcheck, regular like. Da folks didnt 'ave a day's rest until all us kids vere grown an' ve gut rid of dem dam cows. 

Astrid teased Birger 'bout 'is name a lot, ven we ver growin' up. She'd call 'im Booger, 'til 'e got bigger. 'Birger', in Old Norse, means, "Vun who 'elps" but 'e 'ated 'is name fer a long time, den. 'e tot 'e vas adopted." 

"Vell, I tell yew I vas t’inkin’ bout drivin’ tractor fer sumbody vun of dese times. Yust dint know who. Ula’s been drivin’ da little bus in Reed River, da vuns dat pick pepple up an’ take dem vere ever dey vaunt to go in town dere. ‘e’s been afta me ta verk dere tew, likely sose ve could go tew verk together an’ split da expense of drivin’ back an’ fort’, eh. I know ‘im. 

But I drove dem forty ‘roun’ trip miles, six an’ sometimes seven days a veek for all dem years, an’ in all kinds of vet’er, an’ I yust dint vaunt to do it no more, ‘speshully after gittin’ retired an’ bein’ free fer tew years. I verked all me life; I’ve earnd me leisure fer all dat I got left, besides “Life is burning up,” as Knorr ust ta say, an’ I aint takin’ life fer granted."
 

Yah, ve miss Knorr too, Also said.  'ard ta believe 'e's gone."

The Svedens lived just east of Knorr and Asa, and are their closest neighbors. They and the rest of the Wannaska and Reed River community had Knorr repair almost all their farm equipment for the past 43 years, so Knorr’s loss will reverberate for years to come.
 

Sveden's Svedish Flag

 "Dere are sum really gud velders ‘round ‘ere, said Also, but de’re pipeline velders, dat is. Vat ve’ll miss more, iss somevun who cud fabricate an’ fix t’ings right, like Knorr did. Velding iss yust vun part of it."

"Yah, ‘e ‘ad a gud mind fer dat, den," Sven said, thinking of his old friend working in his big shop. Sven saw every nook and cranny of the two buildings where he had spent so much time working and visiting Knorr, in the past thirty-six years.
 

Part of Knorr's shop

 "Vell, less give dis tractor drivin’ a go, eh," said Sven. "Vat time vud you vant me me tew come over dere? Vat day?"
 

"Dis 'ere Saturday vill be gud, ‘bout vun oh clock den," said Also. "Come to da field east of our 'ouse, eh. See you den."
 

Sven started his old truck on Saturday morning, after refilling the radiator with antifreeze--again, even though its overflow tank was sufficiently full already. His 33-year old truck hadn’t been running up to snuff lately and not sucking antifreeze from the overflow tank had been one of the problems, as well as nearly overheating.
 

Old truck

He had changed the thermostat and the radiator cap and overflow tube, and had checked for hose leaks, noting that both his heater hoses were hot, in and out, when the heater was switched on, so he guessed the waterpump was functioning. He held onto the hope it was just a leaking radiator and not a blown headgasket, as antifreeze wasn’t clearly evident in the oil, when he changed it and the filter a few weeks earlier; but neither could he see that the radiator leaked, wherever the truck was parked.
 

The 1986 truck barked to life after a few spins of the starter and a few pumps of the foot-feed, idling roughly at high rpm, the engine vibrating mildly side-to-side. A kick of the pedal again and the engine, smoothed out and idled down, yet was not quite up to what had formally been identified, by many, as 'running as smooth as a little sewing machine'.
 

But should he take it? Old truck was good for driving around the farm, but should he depend on it now, with all its maladies? Its rapidly decaying body? Its aged suspension and electrical wiring harness? Poor fuel economy? Its increasing appetite for antifreeze?
 

Indecision with ailing vehicles like this caused Sven to be late to almost late for many an appointment until Knorr ‘walked on’, but ‘L.I.B.U.,’ was ever present in his psyche since, and he swiftly decided on the spot to take the Subaru station wagon instead, a vehicle a whole lot newer by twelve years, despite Monique’s now often-voiced anxiety about reducing their fleet of ‘In Case of Emergency’ vehicles for her home use, to six from seven, which included, the 1998 Subaru and 2000 Saturn station wagons, the 1986 truck, the 1995 van, the 1967 tractor, the 2017 riding lawnmower, and a 1973 bicycle with a basket, that assured her 24/7 safety.  

Emergency Vehicle No. 7

Sven calmly explained to Monique, that in no way would he ever leave her in such a state of no escape from an earthquake, mudslide, wildfire, clouds of invasive grasshoppers, and/or stampeding herds of wildebeests, and all she would ever have to do was call his cell and he’d stop what he was doing and rush home, for he would be but a mile and a half away, at most.
 

"Yah mais!" he knew Monique would answer, as she had many times since before a tree limb fell on the overhead telephone wire and disconnected the internet. "Vous n'entendez jamais votre téléphone sonner ni sentir ses vibrations. Vous ne le regardez que lorsque vous songez à le faire et d'ici là, il pourrait être trop tard!"
 

Sven sighed, for Monique had gone through such a change that he had to stop and take stock of what had happened on a hourly basis, it had changed her so. Normally fearless and calculating in the face of turmoil that would subjugate lesser individuals, male, female and in-between into frightened teary-eyed children, he had recognized that her strange, overtly cautious, behaviors originated through her memories of the last NetFlix shows she watched before the storm, hence earthquakes ... mudslides ... wildfires ... hordes of grasshoppers ... and the bizarre, wild-eyed faces of wildebeests that began appearing in every window, at every door.
 

She stalked about the house, her hand poised above the holster of her Leatherman, ready to unleash its multi-purpose needle-nose on any that would enter in, should terror as she was experiencing it, would leap out at her as a reality too real to unimagine; so Sven knew he just had to take it in stride, knowing the telephone company was working its way through the community digging in new fiber-optic lines, and its advance in technology would not only greatly improve her Netflix viewing pleasure, but also correct her present state of mind, and Monique, his bon ami, would return to her casual confident self. Despite her trepidation, he’d drive the Subaru.

The Subaru, with less than 300,000 miles on it, had all the bells and whistles of a luxury car: a crackless windshield; tinted electric side windows made of real glass and not plastic garbage bags taped to the doors, inside and out; fully adjustable seat backs, a real usable backseat with its original seat and back cushions; floorboards that had carpet on them instead of cut-to-shape plywood caulked along the edges to keep the dust down; gas and brake pedals with rubber on them so your shoes don’t slide off when they’re wet; four tires, all the same size and tread--that held air overnight; a working radio and tape player; removable seat covers in front; a retractable beverage holder capable of holding two eight-ounce cans; an engine that didn’t require the daily addition of two quarts of oil as a precaution before ignition and always started reliably, without having to reconnect the battery post; and to top everything off, an air conditioner/heater and fan that worked without having to kick the wires under/or bang on top of the dash a time or two to get everything going. This was truly a luxurious car.
 

Sven made sure he had his asthma inhaler, his inner tube cushion, his cellphone, his Leatherman multi-purpose tool, his sunglasses, cap, sweatshirt, steel-toed workboots, a couple bottles of water, some Pita chips no one else would eat, a bit of lunch, his pocket-sized notebook, a yellow lined writing pad, and good pen--and his camera.
 

Well, in Palmville, a person can expect to see a bunch of varied wildlife at any time of day or night. A person can expect to see deer of course--lots of deer; eagles; crows; ravens; magpies; and redtail hawks; maybe a rough-shinned or goshhawk too; or an owl, a partridge or grouse--sharptail or ruffed; Sandhill cranes; Great Blue Herons and Canadian geese, that is, ditto for ducks and other waterfowl. 

Likely a few cottontail rabbits, jackrabbits, weasels, mink, fisher, skunks, and raccoons--maybe a pine marten, if you’re in the right place. Coyotes dash across roads

Fisher

sometimes, but not too often. 

Even rarer to see are timber or gray wolves, but they’re there, seein’ or scenting you from a safe distance. A mountain lion or cougar pass through on occasion--and bobcats, lynx --and bears, are very common to see, especially during these harvest months when grains and corn are ripe and acorns are dropping. 

Twenty years ago, moose would be on the list, but they’ve practically disappeared. It’s almost newsworthy to see one now. I think losing them from the landscape is a tragedy.
 

Then there are beaver, muskrats and bullsnakes--and loads of

Palmville Salamanders

garter and grass snakes, snapping and painted turtles. And rounding out the list are beautiful land and cloudscapes, not to mention harvest dust and the effects of sunlight through it.

Swan

Sven was ready to go.

Ruff Grouse