My first winter in North Central Washington was magical. After spending 22 years in Southern California that first fall and winter was nothing short of magical. Every day was a new adventure, from dressing properly in the day to keeping the fire burning by night. As spectacular as the mountains, rivers and orchards were, I quickly found that a handy accessory known as four wheel drive made life a lot easier. Four wheel drive is to cars what a Fender Twin Reverb is to a Stratocaster. Or maybe what The Godfather was to cinema. Or better yet, what the flashlight is to a single damp match.
My popularity rose significantly the day I bought my 1967 Jeep Wagoner. Suddenly people were calling, by land line or on the CB, asking if I just be in their neck of the woods and willing to taxi an old pal to the, pick one, grocery store, outfitter, gas station, diner, job site, hospital, or tavern. I got pretty good at pulling 'normal' cars out of ditches and pushing stranded or stuck vehicles out of harms way.
The winter of 1979 was particularly fun. It was very cold that year and as we settled in by a toasty fire for a Thanksgiving meal to feature duck, goose, salmon, pheasant and of course turkey, I got the idea that a great after dinner activity might be to go outside and play in the snow. But being adults hopped up with beer, wine, bud and maybe even a little 'pane, building a snowman wasn't exactly anyone's idea of major league fun.
I am looking around the yard for props when I spot them. My trusty Jeep and the stack of tires I had just replaced with some serious snow grabbers. I trot to the shop and grab a length of rope. Good, strong, thick rope with a wire core. My actions are now drawing a crowd as the fed and happy folks start coming out to see what is going on. I lash two 9.50 x 16.5 tubes together and blow 60 psi into each. Then I wrap the rope around the tubes and tie a double bowline to the other end. Everyone is now standing in the driveway, covered by two feet of fresh snow, as I ceremoniously attach the bowline to the 2 inch ball on my Jeeps bumper.
OMG. Light on. The fox is in the henhouse, everyone is scrambling for gear, made easier because we were skiing all day and the living room lookes more like a ski shop than a cabin parlor. They return wearing fleece, gortex, goggles, gloves and smiles of pending mayhem and mischievousness.
You can guess the rest. I drove the Jeep round my 15 acres until well past midnight taking one and sometimes two thrill seeking merry makers over the snow and under an early hint of the Northern Lights.
But today, as a late February snow has blanketed us with white splendor I am sad.
My Jeep is long gone, having been replaced by a two wheel drive Ford Ranger, all but worthless in these conditions.
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