19, Thursday February 20, 2025 "Thanks For Stopping. I Have Help Coming."

    Although by 8 a.m. yesterday morning, temperatures had warmed up to a balmy -22 below from -24 below at 6 a.m., I wanted to warm my car up before I had to drive to my tax appointment at 9:00, twenty-two miles away. Irrationally, I drove the '98 Subaru that had been having sporadic over-heating problems. It had been diagnosed having a head gasket leak or cracked head, two weeks earlier. The word, 'sporadic,' meant just that, that it didn't overheat every trip. I had driven it this past Tuesday--without issue-- to Roseau and back, a round trip of about 40 miles with no problems. So, given the extra time I allowed to my destination, I decided to drive it but be aware of the severe cold outdoors, and the severe heat indoors, maybe showing up on its temperature gauge.

    I knew I could deal with both problems with a little preparation, the easiest being was to dress for it from the beginning, i.e., insulated long underwear & warm socks and a stocking cap (Hey, I'm thin on top) Then pack my cold weather gear in the car: my heavy-weight hooded Carhartt coat or snowmobile jacket; Arctic Pro insulated boots, insulated overalls, wool-lined choppers and insulated gloves, face mask, and goggles against the coldest  winds. I threw in some other accessories like my cellphone charger; a wool blanket; a good flashlight or headlamp, and some batteries for it. Some people say to bring bottled water too, or a thermos of coffee or water. I pack this stuff with me because, unlike so many other people who dramatically choose not to, I have an aversion to freezing my hands and feet unnecessarily; it's not fun. And, if necessary, if I'm warm and capable enough to move my appendages, in case of an accident, I may be able to help others. (Just a thought about preparedness.)

 

    Back to the story at hand, this is the same car I didn't drive to Bemidji on February 8th, https://wannaskanalmanac.blogspot.com/2025/02/13-thursday-february-2025-just-weather.html thanks to my wife bemoaning the fact that it didn't ride as comfortable as she thought Catherine would enjoy; and, although one doesn't usually think of 20th century trucks as luxury vehicles by any stretch of the imagination, she urged me to take our '93 Chevy Silverado Extended cab instead, because Catherine drives a 2013 Silverado model herself.

    Now I thought of that this morning, driving the pickup. I knew it would start, and its heater was just as good as the Subaru's. It has four-wheel drive (the Subaru AWD) and great winter traction tires (ditto the Subaru). I like its visibility; the fact I can see off into the distance and maybe catch a glimpse of a wild animal; a coyote, wolf, or deer; maybe an elk as there are two herds in northern Minnesota; one up by Caribou and one down by Gyrgla, though neither of which I'd be driving anywhere close this trip. Still, sometimes elk will wander solo, or a lone moose show up along a field edge.

 

Sometimes an elk will wander solo or a lone moose show up along a field edge.

 

 

    Carrying some of my emergency stuff out to the car with me, I started the Subaru; I slipped the transmission into neutral and turned the heater on, then went back into the house to let things thaw out a little. Double checking what I needed (completely forgetting to rethink my decision to drive the car) I left the yard with no apprehension; it was a beautifully cold morning in NW Minnesota, where according to this website nobody lives. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bgw6OMnTr9I. Perfect. So far, so good. Not hardly any wind. Nice morning.

    On Roseau County Hwy 6, about fifteen miles southwest from home, I suddenly noticed that the heat gauge was up, so I slowed my speed hoping the temperature reading would descend as it had done in the past. I had about four miles to MN Hwy 32, I guessed, and another mile south on that to Strathcona my destination. I decided to pull onto the shoulder and let it idle down; but unlike the other times, it was steaming, so I shut the engine off. I opened the hood; everything looked wet. But, I thought, given the very cold temperatures, I wouldn't have doubted that even my spit would've steamed in that harsh environment. Turning back to the car door I pulled out my insulated coveralls, stepped into them, and donned my warm coat.

 

     I called my accountant at 8:45 and told him I'd be a little late given the problem I was having. He said he'd make do, but give him a call asap, if I couldn't make it. Reluctantly, I had to call my friend Joe, hoping he was  at home in Palmville, and asked him if he could help me. Graciously, after determining that I was seventeen miles away from him, he said "See you in a few minutes." Then I called Jon's Salvage & Towing in Greenbush to get the car towed to Kevin's Shop in Roseau.

 

     I started the engine, but it seemed pointless; I didn't think I would get very far before this would go all to hell again. The cold was seeping into the car. Zipping up my coat, I dug for my choppers (mittens, in other jargon) when a vehicle swept by me going west that I didn't anticipate. "Yeah, I reckon nobody'll stop on a day like today," I said to myself, thinking how long it had been since I had been broke-down along a road anywhere. "People don't stop to help like they used to. Times change."

 

    It was just about eight forty-two or thereabouts, when a light-colored four-door SUV heading west, slowed down beside me and a passenger window opened. A younger man smiled at me from behind his steering wheel that he was leaning toward, his lunch box/cooler on the set beside him to check if he could help me. I thanked him for stopping but assured him I had help coming. He nodded and drove off.

    I texted my wife just to keep her updated, hanging up just as another vehicle went by me heading east, stopped, then reversed into my lane, probably seeing me as just an old guy with a gray beard. He smiled and looked at me over his left shoulder, slowing to a stop about ten feet away. "You okay? Need a ride?" he said. I said, "No, but thanks for stopping. I have help coming."

 

   A passenger in the last vehicle to stop and check on me, reminded me immediately of my late neighbor Curtis Johnson, of Palmville, with his warm smile beneath the bill of his ever-present cap, his handsome gray beard, and his long wavy hair close within the collar of his warm coat. The driver, an older man too, well-dressed, reminded me of someone I should know but cannot put a name to at this moment. He drove his truck across the center line of the highway and peered under the hood of my car.

 

    "Thanks for stopping, but I have help coming."

 

    "Can you start it?" he asked, intrigued by the little 4-cylinder sewing machine engine.

 

    I said I could, but there was nothing to do about it now, that help was on the way. 

   "I think it's a head gasket; this has happened before." 

 

    He looked at me, like he was thinking, "For dumb! Vy vud you drive it, den eh?'" 

  (Some things don't have to be articulated up here, if you can read people's minds.)

    "Yah shure," I said, in reciprocal thought, just as the tow truck approached from the west and Joe approached from the east.

    "But thanks for stopping!"