Wenchy Winches

I never thought fashion would prove to be so popular. It also appears that Uganda is by far the most fashionable foreign country, as they extended their lead over New Zealand and South Africa in the Memorial Anthony of Egypt National Most Hermitly Award.

I woke up this morning to 2-3 inches of new snow and the warmest temperature we've had in weeks: 0 degrees. What is 2-3 inches of snow good for? Well, not much except the opportunity to plow the road. So I decided to plow the road. I was feeling good, plowing is quite a pleasurable experience when it isn't too cold, and I was making great progress. The whole process usually takes a couple hours, and may require more than one pass to get it really good. I was chugging along the sides of the road trying to push back the berm when the outside wheels suddenly got bogged down and sucked the whole operation just far enough off the road that I was stuck. Bummer. I spent quite a while trying all different directions, speeds and attitudes, but I only succeeded in digging the damn tractor deeper.

So then it was time for the classic cabin maneuver of pulling one machine out of trouble with another machine you have lying around somewhere. Usually, this time tested cabin activity is carried out with more than one person, but Sancho didn't look ready to drive the tractor, so I thought I would use the winch on the truck, probably the easiest thing to handle by oneself.

Ha, silly me. I was thinking of the winch I used to have on my truck. It was a great little guy mounted on the front with a brushguard, and you just plugged in the controller and pulled the truck towards something or pulled something towards the truck. Easy. My father has chosen to outfit his truck with a detachable winch that requires at least 27 steps to operate, all of them somehow designed to create maximum frustration and discomfort.

First, you must get an extension for the tow hitch at the front of the truck, attach that with a rusty pin that must be salvaged from some other hitch in the bed, then get the winch itself. The winch is stored at the very back of the bed where it is hardest to get to, wedged underneath some overhanging crap. Then you must carry the winch around to the front and attach it, but it is attached with a pin that locks, so you must use the key on the same keyring as the truck, meaning you have to turn off the truck, unlock the damn thing, yadda yadda yadda. Things keep happening like this until it is an hour later, and you just have the winch on, and every fiber of your being wants to murder everything in cold blood. It is a ridiculous process and I hate it. Finally, it was all good and I winched out the damn tractor but even then the stupid thing almost couldn't free itself. I had to rock it back and forth for a couple minutes before it could finally get itself free. Arrrgh. I am going straight for the whiskey tonight. I had to drive the tractor back home and then walk back to the truck, which I left running. As scary as it might be walking in the dark out here, it is MUCH worse having to walk towards some lights. For some reason, even though I was the one who left the truck there, it was terrifying to see the headlights through the trees.

Free at last!

The time has come, dear readers, to ask for some audience participation. I, noble hermit, decided it would be fun to answer questions posed by the unenlightened masses (thanks Diana). So you should ask me questions by email or by leaving them in the comments part of this post. Big points for questions with comedic value!