Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

We loosened the radiator cap and hoisted up the jerry can to pour the water into the radiator. It was still our plan to slowly fill the radiator so that it would freeze as we poured it in, this way it would not leak out. I didn't think it would crack the block by freezing if I let it freeze as I filled it. If I just poured it in quickly I knew the freezing of the water would crack the block, but as long as I did it slow, giving the ice room to expand into, I hoped it wouldn't crack.
I tilted the jerry can to pour the water into the rad, but nothing came out, it was frozen. So I grabbed the screwdriver I had in the cab of the truck; the one I was using to work the makeshift stove. Expecting just a small amount of ice to have formed clogging the small opening, I began to attempt to clear it with the blade of the screwdriver. However it seemed to be thicker than I expected, but I soon poked through to the ice encased water.
We tilted it up to pour the water into the rad again, but no more than a couple of quarts of water came out. I placed the jerry can back down on the road I chiseled away at the ice through the small spout opening. But I could find no more water, only solid ice, I chiseled in every direction I could reach as deep as that screwdriver was long, but nothing, it was frozen solid. It had taken Danny so long to get back to the truck and it was so cold out, that it had frozen solid.
Danny was upset, he thought we were doomed, I could tell he was frustrated to no end, he had put so much effort into getting the water, and now it had frozen. It was like the elements had taken a swing at us for daring to try to survive while we were exposed to them. It was beyond comical, and Danny's mind reeled at how complete the victory the weather and the elements were enjoying against us. So much effort, so much perseverance, and so simply defeated, it was hard for one's mind to find any equity in it all, some balance, but there was none. This caused Danny to come to the threshold of having a nervous breakdown. He had put such a superhuman effort out and it seemed like he had overcome so much for what in the end amounted to nothing.
"Well forget it then,” I said, "we will just dolly off the trailer, get this thing running and go!"
"But we have no water!" Cried Danny; suffering from anguish of great frustration.
"It will go without any water, it just might overheat and burn up or seize, but if we can get it started, it will go, at least for a while." I told him.
"Then why didn't we do that in the first place?" Danny demanded to know. “You mean I went all through that water getting stuff when I didn’t have to?”
"Well before, I didn't want to risk wrecking my engine, but now, it is a mater of life and death, so I don't give a damn about that engine, well go till she blows if we have to."
After unhooking the trailer and blocking it up, we pushed the truck out from under the fifth wheel pin. The battery was dead, so we would have to push it to get it started. We both pushed as hard as we could to get it moving. Danny was at the back shoving on the tailgate and I was pushing on the "A" pillar through the open driver’s door. As soon as we reached our top pushing speed I jumped in and put it in second gear and engaged the clutch to spin the motor over.
This truck always started on the first flip of the engine, no mater how cold it was out, she was a great starting engine. This time was no different, she caught right away and I quickly disengaged the clutch and I gave her a little gas to be sure she wouldn't stall. Danny ran up to the passenger door and with a sweeping arm motion knocked the remains of my makeshift stove onto the truck floor as he climbed in. I expected him to ask what all that stuff on the seat was but he didn’t.
I put it in gear and off we went. Without any water in the engine the heater would not work, as it uses the water as the medium with which to transfer heat from the engine to the heater. This meant that the thick layer of frost on the windshield had to be scraped away so that I could see through the glass. I scraped away at it with my fingernails as I picked up speed and up shifted through the gears.
I could not see much through the fingernail scrapings but it was better than nothing. I made a fist and rubbed side of my hand and baby finger into the frozen ice on the window, hoping that the body heat in my hand would melt out a larger opening. Trouble was; as fast as I could clear a small area, our breath would cloud it up and the frost would return to it. It was hopeless, and the more we gained speed, the more I needed to see the winding arctic highway.
I had to keep my window open to vent our breath from the cab in an attempt to keep the window clear, but even with that it was hard to see through the small scrapes we had opened up to peek through. I had to hang my head out the side window to see, instantly freezing my nose ears and exposed skin of my neck and face. Even my forehead froze tight. I would bring my head in for shelter but could not see well enough through the glass. So just as quickly as I had come in, I had to poke my head back into the freezing stream of air again.
Danny would scrape away at the glass with his hands and fingernails to clear me a slit to see through. He would call me back inside each time that he had got it clear enough for me to see through. Then it would cloud up again and I would pop my head back out the window. We repeated this process several times. In spite of all the afflictive conditions we were experiencing we both felt overjoyed at our motion, our speed, the contrast from being stopped with no hope to this was gargantuan.
It was down hill all the way to Enterprise, and I was confident we were going to make the small settlement before the engine gave out completely. But I was beginning to hear the rattle of an overheating engine again, even so, there was no stopping this time, "go till she glows" was my motto this time, it was life or death, flesh and blood over aluminum and steel. It was very cold so I thought that if I traveled fast enough the rushing cold air flowing through the engine compartment might help the engine cool better than a slower softer breeze.
I held the accelerator to the floor, that little six cylinder engine was giving all she had, and with the down hill slope in our favor we were hitting close to ninety mile an hour. With the poor visibility and the speed we were traveling at, some of the winding corners came up on us rather quickly. But I didn't care; I was not lifting that foot for anything. With nary a faint glimpse of the road ahead I slid that half-ton through the apex of the turns. All the while bobbing my head in and out of the window to see where I was going. I helped Danny to scrape the opening in the frost as I searched for where the next unexpected turn was. But no sooner would we have rubbed the frost clear it would fog up again, but I refused to slow down.
With the engine growing hotter and more sluggish by the minute we rounded a turn coming down the hill and finally saw the lights of enterprise. Well actually, the light of enterprise, there was only one light; it was on the entrance door to the now closed restaurant. Pulling into the restaurant and stopping I shut the key off, but the hot engine would not shut down and rattled and knocked away until I put it in high gear and engaged the clutch and brake at the same time to stall it like I had before.
Cold and tired we exited the pick up and banged on the restaurant door until we woke up the proprietors and they came down from the upstairs loft and let us in. This was the same restaurant we had spent some time at earlier in the day and so they recognized us. I don't recall for sure but I think they may have told us that we could wake them up in the middle of the night if we did have trouble that we might have to turn back for.
They put on a pot of coffee and I drank the whole pot trying to get a kick-start from the caffeine. They put on a second pot and I drank all of that as well. They knew someone who might have a radiator and we called him up and woke him out of his sleep. For some reason the restaurateurs were sure he wouldn’t mind us calling him at that hour, and after we called him it seemed that they were right; he did not seem to mind. To me it all seemed rather surreal. He had an old Ford pickup in the back yard of his place and for four hundred dollars we could pull the radiator out and put it in my truck. It was a pretty steep price for an old used radiator, but we did wake him up at some ungodly early morning hour.
We pulled the radiator out of the donor truck by flashlight in the cold darkness of this never ending night, we used a bucket to collect all the antifreeze that ran out of it; we would need it for my truck. We also took the radiator hoses and hose clamps. Beside the restaurant was a cold but sheltered carport. They let us use it to install the radiator into my pickup. It was not a perfect fit by any means, the truck we pulled it out of was a v-eight, and my truck was a straight six.
In spite of our weary condition, I was determined on doing a good job of installing the radiator. It would require some modifications and some custom work to install it properly. I was in no state to recover from another break down out in the middle of nowhere again, at least not on this night. Danny resisted my efforts somewhat, wanting to jam it in as fast as possible, hanging it there with wire and duct tape. But I insisted we do it right.
My efforts paid off and we did a first class custom installation. In fact, I don’t think ideal workshop conditions or even a well-rested fresh installation crew would do any better. We topped the antifreeze with the recovered coolant and some water, and then we filled our thermoses up and headed out on the highway again. With heat blasting out of the defrost vents, and the cab all toasty warm, it seemed worlds apart from only a few hours earlier, when it was no more than a cold would be tomb.
Our headlights picked up the dark silhouette of our highboy trailer on the side of the highway. We stopped and I backed under the trailer and we hooked it back up again. It was facing the wrong way and so I had to turn it around and head back south towards High Level. It was a strange kind of eerie yet conquering mix of feelings we experienced, being back at the same spot that only a few hours earlier we tried so desperately to escape from.
After finding a spot to turn around we doubled back up the highway and drove past the spot again. In the glow of our headlamps we could see the blackened stain in the snow where I burned the plastic pail of gasoline. The rhythm of the snow bank was broken up and trampled where we had been stalled for all those hours, bits of debris left behind from our struggle was the only monument to testify to our near death ordeal.
Sometime Sunday afternoon we arrived in High Level, bleary eyed and strung out on countless cups of coffee I hoped that stopping for breakfast would help me catch my second wind again. We found some greasy spoon of a joint and ordered their three-dollar breakfast special. I loaded the runny eggs with pepper and catsup, but I could taste nothing, my tongue was not working right, everything had no flavor. I drank four more cups of coffee. I was still tired after this, it did nothing to help me get that fabled second wind, but at least I was not hungry anymore.
We found the auction yard and got hold of a tow truck to load the bombardier onto the high boy via a loading ramp that was onsite. We also loaded a couple highway tractor transmissions, a couple of highway tractor driveline assemblies, and a pile of drive shafts for the same. These were items that Dan's brother Bob had asked us to pick up for him. I tried to just sit in the truck and rest while Danny and the tow truck driver loaded us up, but I had to help them, it was harder to watch than to help.
By the time we were done loading and securing the load down it was suppertime, and so we returned to the same greasy spoon for a last meal before hitting the highway. Over dinner I complained to Danny about how sore my leg was from the constant draft blowing onto it through the opening around the steering column shaft in the firewall. He seemed uninterested; he did not understand how bad it was for me.
I was tired and my leg was aching hour after hour; I was in considerable discomfort. I had tried to seal the hole that was around the steering column before we had left enterprise. I thought I had done a good job; I used duct tape and everything. But no sooner had we started on our way that the relentless draft returned to torture my legs. My legs never completely recovered from that experience, for years and years later my legs still ached that same blunt pain. Danny’s indifference to my plight was indicative of the fact that his side was all warm and toasty.
If it was from the hours, or rather days without a minutes sleep, or from all the gallons of coffee I had consumed, or both, I don't know, but it caused my head to pound with each heart beat, like a trip hammer was jammed in between my ears. I feared my head would explode. On our way out of town we stopped for some aspirin or Goodys headache powders or something like that from a small convenience store on the outskirts of town. But they didn't have any, so we just fueled up and hit the road. The few Tylenol left in an old bottle in the glove box would have to do. They were old, but I hoped they would still work.
Before winding her up into second gear, I popped a couple of them and washed them down with a swig of coffee. I hoped for immediate relief, but of course that didn't occur. It literally felt like my head was going to explode, like the force of my heart beating would pop my skull open. I needed more pills; I motioned to Danny to pass me back the bottle that he had not yet returned to the glove box. I popped two more and washed them down with more coffee. Hopefully that would help.
It began to snow, big heavy wet flakes, it was considerably warmer down here than it was north of the border, and the slightly below freezing temperatures gave way to large lazy wet snowflakes. The snow began to collect on the road and the farther we went the deeper it got. The heavy wet snow made for very slippery driving conditions, and at some points it was coming down so heavy and visibility was so poor that all I could see was halfway down the length of my hood.
With the trailer now loaded, and loaded rather poorly, because the tow truck was unable to back the bombardier all the way onto the trailer, and so it was hanging off the back of the trailer a bit, so the driving was doubly difficult. It took all my concentration to try to keep us on the road, and stopping was nearly impossible. With the road getting more and more slippery, I was not even sure how much driving I was even doing; it felt like I had no real control. I wondered if it was just that we hadn't hit the ditch "yet” was the only reason we were still on the road.
I couldn’t get over eighteen miles an hour with out things starting to swing. But I forced it up to twenty-five miles an hour; which was all first gear was good for. I tried to get it into second gear, but the engine bogged down under the burden of its load, and so I had to go back down to first gear. Besides, it was difficult to keep it on the road going faster than twenty-five miles an hour. This would be a long trip.
My mirrors were too narrow to see past the trailer behind me, and since we were going so slowly, I was sure that traffic would be building up behind me. To try to get a peek at what was going on behind me I swung the trailer a bit so as to see past it when it was swung away. The first time I did this, it just took a slight little tweak on the wheel and I induced a small motion of swing and quickly saw that indeed traffic was building up behind me.
I pulled over as far as I could to let them all pass. Then about five minutes later I thought I saw the flicker of a headlamp in my rear view mirror. I tweaked the wheel once more as before, but saw nothing; I put a little more "English" on to it a second time, still nothing, no glint of headlamps could be detected in my mirrors. I then tried to straighten her out to continue on my way, but the pendulum effect had taken over.
The only way to stop the trailer from swinging into a jackknife is to chase the back end of the trailer with the front end of the trailer. That is to say, if the back end swings to the right, drive the front end to the right, the idea is to break the pendulum action and thereby prevent the back end of the trailer from trying to reach the speed of sound.
That’s no joke, in effect when a trailer is swinging behind a car; it is trying to snap like a whip, hypothetically, if the towing vehicle was heavy enough and powerful enough and could hold the road, the back of the trailer would snap like a whip. Of course it would probably fray the back of the trailer like the end of some delinquent change room towel. But long before this occurs with a real trailer and tow vehicle the energy would be dissipated by the mere action of skidding tires breaking the pendulum action as the whole rig piled up in the ditch.
As I chased the trailer to the left and right, trying to get ahead of it to break that pendulum swing, Danny got excited, and was shouting "Woe! Woe! Stop it!" At about that same moment I was able to get it all settled down and straightened out. "What was all that? I thought you were a better driver than that! You were all over the road!" Danny exclaimed mocking me.
What would he know? He can't even drive. “Oh I was jus' trying to get a look behind me to see if traffic was all hanging up on us…"
Danny interrupted me; "What? You did that on purpose? That’s even stupider than I thought!"
I perceived that he had no clue about what had just occurred, what he thought was bad driving was actually great driving! There are barely a handful of people in the whole world that could have kept us out of the ditch in that same situation. Perhaps getting it started by whipping it on purpose was not the best idea, perhaps not real good from a driving perspective, but the saving of it took a cool hand and steady nerve mixed with intuitive talent. If there was one thing I could do it was drive.
We traveled for several more hours through the ice and snow, I tried to push it as fast as I could all the way, but that was still no more than thirty miles an hour. After winding it out down a long stretch between flat to very slight down grade, I was able to collect some speed out of second gear, we got up to about forty miles an hour. But I had to be up on the wheel, it took all my concentration to keep it from swinging back and forth and jackknifing. Steering to the left, then to the right, to quench any undesirable motion of the trailer behind us was taxing my already weary state.
We then rounded a long turn, and this revealed a long down grade, not very steep, but at least three or four miles long. At the bottom was what appeared to be a rather sharp left handed corner. Immediately I knew we might be in trouble, if I was to round that turn successfully I would have to begin slowing down now. I was traveling faster than I had the whole trip, and now I had to get it slowed down on this slippery slope.
I played gingerly with the brake pedal; if I tried to slow it down too quickly the heavily loaded trailer would over run us. It would be close; it felt like I would not be able to get it slowed down as much as I wanted to by the time we got down to the bottom of the hill. I would have to take the turn at a much faster rate than I thought we could hold it at. I usually was not wrong about these things, if I thought it wouldn't make the turn, I was probably right. But there is always hope, hope that I was wrong.
Half way down the hill was a level railway crossing, when we hit it we were going much too fast and the trailer began to whip and swing behind us. At that same moment a Greyhound bus rounded the corner at the bottom of the hill, I knew I had to get us under control before we met it. I watched the mirrors intently and tried to stay ahead of the swinging trailer. I was using the whole highway to try to get it under control, all the way from the right bank to the left, and back again.
We were traveling in a sine wave so I tried to calculate where we would be on that wave when we met the Greyhound bus. It seemed that we might be coming across to the left as it met us, we would be on a collision course. I tried to break the rhythm of that sine so that we would be traveling away and in the right lane, but I didn't know if that was possible. In my mind were images of a horrible bus crash, and if I lived through it, a life behind bars for me.
I could not let that happen, I would try to pile it into the ditch before the bus got too close, that was the best solution I could think of. I wheeled the wheel hard, not yet ready to bail it into the ditch, my heart was in my throat, this was bad, bad as it gets. Danny was shouting at me; "Cut it out!! Cut it out!!…Quit foolin' around!! Cut it out!! Stop it!!" I was too busy to answer; couldn’t he see that I had my hands full?
All of a sudden I saw a bright flash, and stars, I felt a hard smack on the side of my face. What was that? I feared I had hit the bus already. Then there was another flash, and this time it hit me right in my ear, that one really rung my bell. What is happening to me? I was becoming so disorientated. It took a few seconds but my eyesight returned, only to be blanked out by another traumatic slam in the side of my head. This one was such a hard smack that I expected to feel my brains run out of my crushed head, weird, this is what it feels like to die? I caught myself thinking.
From a small dot in the center of a bright but dark flash, consciousness returned with a mighty rush. I found that I was still yawing down the highway, and the bus was very close now but we hadn't hit it yet. I was confused, but still I tried desperately to straighten us out, my head was throbbing like a thumb smacked by an ill-placed hammer blow, this was on top of my already pounding headache. I still didn’t know what was hitting me, my mind imagined something had come off the trailer and was hitting me somehow, but I didn't hear the rear window smash, so I didn't know what it could be. In between the blows I could still hear Danny screaming at me to "Cut it out!"
My eyes were tunnel visioned onto the road ahead, but I stole a moment and tore them away and turned to address Danny; "I'm tryi'…" I was interrupted by a flurry of punches to my face. One of them breaks my nose. Danny in his panic had begun punching me, thinking that I was just clowning around, not knowing that I was trying to do all I could to save our lives. The ironing is delicious. I thought. I could see that his very panic caused reactions that were probably going to be what would contribute the most to our deaths. I know the word is irony, but I was having my head bashed in at the time.
When your nose is broken, if you haven't experienced it before, is a blinding pain. Add to that three days without sleep and a pounding headache from overdosing on coffee, and a leg aching to the bone; the sum of it all was a pretty intense moment. For several moments I was stunned, perhaps even unconscious, or at least very near to passing out. In a rush my hearing and sight returned. Blood was pouring from my nose, and blood had sprayed all over the windshield from the force of his blows.
I immediately returned to concentrating on driving, still cognizant of the approaching Greyhound bus. It was right upon us now, and through bloody tears I watched us sliding towards it. I cringed for the impact while at the same time making last minute driving inputs with my blood soaked hands, in hope of giving us the best chance of avoiding collision. I couldn't just veer away, if I did that the trailer would swing into the bus. I had to line the trailer up straight behind us, to make us as skinny a target as possible.
My vision blurred by pain and swelling I was driving by feel more than sight. I saw the blur of the bus pass by and tip my mirror oh so slightly, knocking it out of adjustment, but that was all. I waited a split second to feel the trailer hit the bus, but it didn't, we got by clean enough. It was such a relief; I relaxed, and caught my breath. But my job was not done, and that respite was all it took for things to get ahead of me.
Out the passenger window I could see the full length of the trailer, we were jackknifed and sliding out of control, I could see the tires of the trailer plowing into the snow bank on the side of the road. Danny was poised to hit me again. Danny was sure that I was just fooling around; he had been with me at other times when I was driving fast and skidding through the turns. He thought this was no different. "Woeb! Waib dom’b!" I yelled throwing my arm up to block his incoming blow.
"Well cut it out! Quit screwin around! I bloody well mean it! Right this minute Stop! Just stop the damn truck!" Danny ordered me.
"Quik fweaken thittin mbe!!! I can'th!! I'b twyin thoo!! You thupid pidiot!! Yourt gondna weffin killb us doth!! Thstop thittin mbe you cwazy fweak sthow!!…Done ob a thitch!" My broken nose filled with blood clogging my words. I was trying desperately to regain control but it was so slippery there was little I could do. The back of the trailer was now wrapped right around and the deck of the highboy was crunching the cab of the truck. The trailer was now dragging the truck down the highway; we were along for the ride. The truck was jackknifed all the way around and we were facing backwards.
The force of the trailer against the cab crunched up and popped Danny's doorframe open at the top. The road noise came roaring in with the cold wind through the opening. We were still sliding; it seemed we were picking up speed. My blood soaked hands were tacky on the steering wheel as I hung on to it, no longer really finding it of any use.
The trailer rotated us into the ditch, the front of the truck cab caught the snow bank, the snow bank tried to jam the cab of the truck back, and rotate us around the fifth wheel pin and through the trailer deck like a guillotine blade. If successful it would decapitate us along with the truck cab roof. The cab twisted, cracking the windshield and shattering the back window of the truck. The front top corner of my door popped open about two inches from the distortion of the truck cab.
Then suddenly the truck straitened out, the trailer tucked in properly behind us, and we were traveling about four or five miles an hour on the shoulder of the road. I brought is to a stop. I don’t know what happened to cause it to stop from decapitating us, but it was over, we had survived. "You mean that wasn't on purpose?" Danny said apologetically.
"No you thsupid done of a vitch!! How weffin sthupid arbe you?? Done of a fithitch!! I tfhink youb broke my fthuckin bnose!! Thamn it!! Youb thstupid thun ob a thiitch!! Bhat tha thelb vere youb twing do bo? Weffin Killb us? Thamn it!! Howd thuckin Thupid par bou?…I thould kick youb pout thright heremb!! Bull ta pin on pthis bload an jusht geth tha thell oubt vof there amb leave youb forb thead!! …Dthamn bit myb noseb fthurts!!" I unloaded with both barrels all over Danny. I was pretty peeved.
"I'm sorry!! I’m sorry! I didn't know! I'm sorry! Sorry! Sorry…I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" was all that Danny could say. I knew he was sorry, I knew that he had panicked, Danny was like a wild animal, and very strong and independent when on his own, but fearful and clumsy in most social situations. When scared he reacted like a cornered mountain lion, it was all he knew, he was Danny, he couldn’t be anything else.
"Thormry?? vhat the thell goob isth vat?? Vhat amb I gonbna do vith vat?? Vill tvat fixmb myb fthreaken nosb? No thdamn thay it fill!...Allb youk cam thay bis thorry? Gweat! Thad fixthes evevythingk! Thoesn’t fixth myb nosb doeb it? Thoesn’t sthop tfis bounding imb by thead boes ith!! …oth Ton of a pitch I hurts" I moaned. "Your bo theffin Thupid!! Ughh!!" I tried to enunciate as well as I could, but my swollen lips and bloody nose tangled up my words. My anger and frustration only slightly satiated, I ran out of nasty things to say.
Danny fell silent, there was nothing he could say, and I sensed I had hurt him more emotionally than he hurt me physically. Danny was very sensitive about having his intelligence questioned; I could see he was experiencing a trauma of his worst fears being exposed. Danny believed he was stupid, his life was no more than a desperate effort for some kind of positive recognition to nurse his broken ego. By calling him stupid I was pushing right on his sorest spot, I was inflicting pain where anesthetic was needed.
"Iths bokay Dhanny, I knowb youths thidn't meamb bit, youb thought I bas cwowning awound, I'mb thorry I callbed you sthupid, I knowb youw wot" I said trying to repair some of the damage and protect my conscience. Danny remained silent, I could see he was in a powerful emotional state; it took all his effort to keep from breaking down in tears, so he bit his tongue and said nothing. I reached past him and retrieved the bottle of Tylenol from the glove box, my blood soaked fingerprints leaving evidence of every motion needed to complete the task.
But Danny was hurt; he thought I was someone he could trust not to treat him like everyone else did, and now he found I was not. The situation was intense, but that was no excuse, my character failed me, I should been more of a man, I should have just shut up and asked for a towel to mop up the blood. My broken nose healed crooked, and remained that way till this very day. But the emotional scars that I inflicted on Danny that day are as visible in his persona as the broken nose on my face. I downed four more Tylenol in one quick action; I grabbed one of the thermoses, leaving my bloody paw prints all over it.
I poured myself out half a cup of coffee while the four Tylenol dissolved on my tongue. I went to wash them down with the coffee, but my lips and inside of my mouth was so tender that the temperature of the coffee caused excruciating pain. I thought my head was already in as much pain as there was available from the pain store. I thought there was no more to feel, unfortunately, it seems there is an unlimited amount of pain available to torment us. The shock of the hot coffee passing over my lips caused me to squeal a girlish yelp.
Before Danny could respond I handed the Tylenol bottle to him; "Thon of a ditch youth gob a thell of a weft hook!" I said trying to break the tension between us as I punched him lightly in the arm. "Ctheck ind the glub box bould ya' dor some Keenex or domething to cwean up all this blud." Danny popped open the glove box, mixing his fingerprints with mine in the blood. He tossed the Tylenol bottle back into the glove box, but there was no Kleenex or anything to be found. All there was was a rag he found under the seat, it had a frozen chunk of dirty ice matted into half of it, but it was better than nothing. We had used up all the good rags that we had brought with us.
The sticky tackiness of blood, along with its color, I am sure is by design, to incense rage, I could never stand it, it always made me angry when there was blood on my hands, especially my own. I wiped the blood off the steering wheel as best I could, wiped off my hands and face with it, and then held the rag to my nose to try to stop the bleeding.
"Tilt your head back, it'll stop it from bleeding" suggested Danny, regaining his composure. He continued to apologize, "I'm sorry, I thought you were just foolin' around, like when you were running down all the prairie chickens!" I could see his point, but still even if I was fooling around, knocking out the driver did not seem like the smartest idea. But I didn't want to mention that, I had said more than enough already.
After a little while my nose stopped bleeding, however, it continued to smart. My head hurt so bad I that any guillotine no matter how cruelly constructed would be looking mighty friendly about now; immediate relief, like a cold drink of water to parched lips. I could see a blurry series of white flashes in the peripheral of my right eye, each heart beat causing a surge of pain and more flickers in my eyes. My neck became sore, like my neck muscles had failed; it was agonizing just trying to hold my head up. I sunk low in the seat and rested my head by hanging it over the back of the seat, my own head had become too great a burden to bear, there maybe a lesson it that, but I doubt it. I needed to rest, catch my breath, at least for a little while.
Danny fell silent; I could tell he was uncomfortable as he empathized with what I had been going through. He had at least been able to sleep, he had not needed to concentrate every minute of the way, the air leak through the firewall was not blowing up his leg, and he had not had his nose broken. His parka was not stained with a layer of crusting blood.
I looked quite the site, blood spattered all over my parka and streaked down my neck and arms. My right eye swelling shut and "ouch" I discovered a tooth had cut through my lip. "gweabt" I mumbled in a rather negative facetious groan.
I rolled my pounding head back and forth on the top of the seat back as I rubbed the back of my neck with my hand tying to nurse some relief into it. "Ohb! By neck is kiwing me!" I complained, my speech regaining some of its composure.
"You want me to massage it for you for a while?" offered Danny as he began to make a move towards me.
"What? Woe! Woeb! No! Thath’s vokay! No needth for that!" I exclaimed as I snapped to attention in my seat as a mocking jest. "I'm justh in pain here, I'm not gayb or banything!…bawck woff!"
"What? No it’s nothing like that! I'm not gay! I just thought you might need some help, I mean I know how much pain you’re in! That’s all!" I knew that, but I was uncomfortable with anybody touching me at anytime, especially a guy, and I just was making a joke of it all to ease the tension. I was pretty sure Danny got that, but he wasn't taking any chances so he explained himself.
"Look Danny, you’rbe a thandsome man, and you fill out those bwue jeans wather nicely, but I jush don’t thwing that way!" I said trying to hold back my laughter, it wasn't that funny, but we were starved for entertainment.
"Now I'M not so sure about you!" Danny mocked. I began to laugh at it all, but I hadn't slept for days, and I was in one of those sleep-deprived moods when anything seems funny.
"O' o' ouch! Don’t make me laugh it hurts like myb nead's gonna expwode!…and my wibs are kilwing me! What hapbened to them?" I felt under my right arm and felt a few tender spots and bruises. "Did you punch me in the thides? I didn't theven feel dat beforeb! Oh, morb pain."
"Yeah I think a couple of time I might have!"
"Gweat, thanks, that’s just what I neebed…the wholte packwage deal"
It was time to go, but the rear window was shattered. But like any car window, it was still hanging in its fractured matrix of tiny irregular glass blocks, but any sudden movement might just cause it to fall into a pile of tiny irregularly shaped glass chunks on the ground. We had some duct tape so we used it to tape over the window in a net pattern inside and out to hold the glass from disintegrating. "Thab should do it." I remarked as we climbed back into the truck and headed off down the highway again.
Now with the cab twisted the doorframes were not sealing, well hardly they could; there were gaps nearly two inches wide in some spots, like at the top of the front of my door, the wind whipped in through it and blew over the steering wheel, freezing my hands. It just keeps getting better, I thought to myself sarcastically. "Got anymore of those Tylenol?" I asked.
"I think you have already had about eight in the last hour, I think that’s way beyond the recommended dosa…"
"Scwew the wecommebded dothage!!" I said in my most evilly possessed sounding voice. Danny sheepishly handed me the bottle of Tylenol. I thought that it felt like there was only about three pills left in the bottle, so I popped the lid, it took a few tries, Stupid childproof lids! I tilted the bottle into my mouth emptying its contents. There were more like six or seven pills left in it and they all tumbled into my mouth. With Danny watching me so expectantly it would be too un-cool to spit any of them out.
I reached for one of the thermoses and began to pour myself a coffee to wash them down with. As the pills dissolved on my tongue I could taste the bitterness increasing. I quickly tipped the coffee cup to my lips and poured it back. "Augh! Its sthill thoo dambn hot!" I yelped. "Gweat! That’s jus' gweat! Now my tongue an' thwoat's buwning!"
Danny had some pop that he hadn't finished that he had been drinking while eating a bag of corn chips. It was littered with several floats of gelatinous back wash debris, but I had too cool my throat so I took it from him and drank it anyway. I threw the bottle of Dr. Pepper back at him and while suppressing a cough, I muttered; "That’s a little better" Danny made no comment; he just shook his head slightly, hoping I wouldn't notice. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he kept it to himself.
I was in bad shape; I hadn't wanted to stop because I promised Ralph that I would be back on Monday. But now I couldn't stop even if I wanted to, we were already beyond the point of no return. There was no place to rest, if I fell asleep now, even if we stopped I would die, it was too cold, I was too tired, the nearest help was too far. I began to keep repeating over and over in my mind: If I sleep; I die! This worked surprisingly well to keep me up.
Hours dragged on, I could not hold my head up, I literally could not do it; my neck had lost all its strength. My head fell over sideways onto my shoulder, rolling my chin into my chest with the rocking and rolling of the truck’s motion; my eyes looking up past my eyebrows to see the road. I was still trying to get as much speed as I could out of our rig. I was still taking chances of losing control from going too fast. I felt I had no choice, die in a wreck or freeze to death by stopping to sleep, there was no lesser evil.
I suffered Danny reaching over and grabbing me by the back of my neck and holding my head up. He squeezed my neck with his big mitt of a hand, it felt good, but it would not revive my comatose neck muscles. From time to time he would have to change hands, as he would cramp up in the tight compartment of the cab. The wind whipping in through the bent window frame froze my hands but felt good as some of it blew against my forehead.
Eventually I wrapped my parka around my neck and head to cradle it so Danny would not need to hold my head up any more. I rested my head in the fluffy down lined coat, my neck pain was still unbearable, but at least my head was upright. After a while I began to not feel so good, my stomach began to ache badly, it felt like it was going to explode. I broke out into a cold sweat; I felt my strength plummet through out my body, as every cell seemed to drain some it's life out.
I stopped the truck as fast as I could. I flung the door open and fell to my hands and knees in the middle of the road. I was dry heaving and convulsing badly. My arms could no longer support me and I collapsed onto the wet slushy surface of the road. My face was rubbing into the gritty road surface with each convulsion. I wanted to throw up, but all that was happening was dry heaves. My bruised and battered ribs were shooting pain through my abdomen with each heave.
"What’s going on?" shouted Danny panicking. "Are you okay?" Why does everyone ask that? A piano could fall on a guy from twenty floors up, land square on him, drive him right through the side walk, and we would ask; "Are you okay?"
"Noo!" I moaned. Danny ran around the truck and tried to help me to my feet, but I was too weak to get up. Even though I was soaked to the skin in icy road slush I was sweating profusely. After a few moments I rallied all my strength and crawled to the front tire of my truck. Danny helped me sit up and lean my back against it. Danny had grabbed my parka and was trying to cover me with it, but I waved him off. "No, gasp, I’m okay." I pulled my knees up to get the length of the back of my legs out of the slush. I folded my arms over my knees and laid my head down on my arms.
My breathing was rapid and shallow, I couldn’t get enough air, I had to pull myself together I was going into shock. I took long deep deliberate breaths, forcing myself to exhale as much as I was inhaling. After a while I began to feel better, I felt some strength return and some of the weakness that had overcome me just moments before flee. I looked up at Danny as he stood uneasy; nervously switching his stance from one foot to the other and back; he was muttering in a whimper "Don’t die…don’t die…" in a muffled low voice. That’s encouraging. I thought.
I reached my arm up to him and he pulled me to my feet, I leaned over the hood of the truck, I could feel the sweat evaporating away in the cold breeze. After resting for some time I was able to stand on my own, I wasn't feeling great, but whatever that was, was over. "I think you had too many Tylenol." Danny diagnosed. I gave no reply, just a look that said it all; he dared not say another word.
I climbed back into the truck, I was soaked and filthy, I didn’t have a change of clothes with me, but soaked like I was there was no way I could tolerate the draft coming in through the distorted door frame. I got Danny to go around the out side and with the duct tape cover over the opening and tape the door seam up solid. I wanted to just sit there and sleep, I even tried to let myself sleep for a minute before we were going to head off again, but my mind kept saying; Sleep and you'll die, and this kept waking me up as I dozed.
I considered getting Danny to drive, he had never driven before, and he couldn't even ride a bike. I didn't think he could do it; it took a level of concentration to keep this precarious rig on the road that I was sure Danny had no idea how to maintain. This was no job for a first time driver, I was sure of that. Or was I? Perhaps it was my ego that was so convinced I was the only man for the job? A shaky ego terrified of being insignificant. I had no way of knowing, because that’s how ego's work. Whatever it was, I was on the road again, driving into the night, in a conflagration of folly or a blaze of glory? Who could know?
Several hours passed, or they seemed to, it was impossible for me to tell, on the one hand it seemed like this would never end, while on the other, my mind was only cognizant of what was going on a small percentage of the time. I recall crossing the Border into the Northwest Territories, how the highway changed from straight smooth pavement to a winding heaving gravel road. I recall less than four or five on coming vehicles passing us. One was another Greyhound bus, but it passed without incident.
The slushy snow covered highway gave way to being frozen and wind swept as the temperature dropped dramatically the further north we got. I drove all night, the winding curves of the McKenzie Highway seemed easier to drive on than the straight Alberta highways, the curves seemed to keep the trailer from getting bored and swinging on us. I also found it easier to stay awake; setting each oncoming turn, as a series of obtainable goals seemed to keep me occupied just enough, without overstressing me. We passed the spot we had broken down on the way south, seeing it gave us hope that we would make Enterprise soon. We both turned our heads and silently reflected upon the spot. We passed it by like it was a defeated enemy, I knew we both were feeling a certain amount of vindication, and it felt good.
We had made pretty good time; it was only about two o'clock in the morning when we rolled into the restaurant parking lot at enterprise. Once again we woke up the proprietors of the restaurant; they said that they had waited up for us expecting us to arrive at anytime through the night. I didn’t even know these people, yet they had genuine consideration for us. It was not something that I expected from people, and so I never knew how to react grateful enough.
When they greeted us at the door I was quite a sight I’m sure, one eye swollen shut, nose pushed over crooked and all swelled up. Dried blood streaked down my chin and neck, my clothes spattered and smeared with blood. Clothes still soaked and filthy, one look was all it took, there was no need to ask; how was the trip; it was written all over me. "What happened to you?" The restaurateur’s wife Caroline asked sympathetically.
"Danny got a little excited." I said while pointing discreetly at Danny. "I'll leb Danmby telb ya the storbmy." They compelled Danny to tell them what had happened. I meanwhile got permission to look through the junk they had stored in the carport to see if I could find some kind of hook, like a flower pot hanger or something that I could screw into the roof of the truck. Sheepishly, Danny related the story of how I got all beat and battered. Stopping plenty of times to reiterate how sorry he was.
I found the perfect hook, it could easily be screwed to the roof of the truck. I had a plan, it was to make some kind of halo and strap it tightly to my head and hang it from the hook. I wrapped a handkerchief around my head and then wrapped several windings of mechanic wire around my head. Wrapping it over my forehead, past my temple, and tight to the base of my skull at the top of the back of my neck. Using a three and a half-inch spike and sticking it through the wire strands I twisted the nail, tightening the halo of wire tightly to my head.
It felt incredibly good tightening the halo, my pounding temples now contained in a cage of steel. My head had felt like it was going to explode, but now the wire would hold it together. I added a couple of more wires to hang on the hook I would put into the roof of the truck. I would hook the halo to the roof, and let it hold my head up the rest of the way. My neck muscles were in such pain I had to do something, or I knew I could not face what was left of our journey.
Caroline and her husband tried to talk us into staying the night, but I would hear none of it, "I promised Ralph that I would be back Monday no mater what!” I told them
“Yeah but there’s no way anyone expects you to stick to your word in such extreme circumstances like these!” Caroline tried to reason with me.
“But that’s what no mater what means; no mater what, when I say no matter what; then that is what I mean. It's not as if I am the bible or something! My words actually have to say what they mean!” The short time that I had known my dad he had managed to teach me that one thing, if you give your word, you keep it, end of sentence; no excuses. I am sure he tried to teach me other things, but it was this one rule I clung to out of it all; and unlike Samson and his hair, I was not going to cut it.
Danny continued to apologize for beating the crap out of me, he was sincerely sorry, I told him it was okay, and not to worry about it. I began to refill our thermoses, they were looking worse for their wear, coffee stains building up over them in several sticky layers, and now covered in a crust of my dried blood. Danny stopped me from just refilling them; he insisted he do it for me, and that he would wash them as well; a kind of penance for pummeling me. I resisted him at first, I mean it was no big deal, I just wanted coffee, and at this point I couldn't care less about how clean the thermoses were. But due to Danny’s insistence I let him go ahead and clean them up and fill them with coffee while I went outside to the truck to get ready to leave.
I put the finishing touches on my halo and then punched a hole through the roof of the truck with the three and a half-inch spike I had used as a twister. A couple of washers and nuts and the hook was solid and secure. Danny came running out of the restaurant with the thermoses and we waved goodbye as we climbed into the truck to leave.
I hooked my halo into the hook and lowered my self into the seat, it held firm as I sunk even lower into my seat, until I was hanging from my contraption. It felt so good; it was like some kind of magical therapy. It was the first bit of real comfort I had felt in what seemed like an eternity. Danny thoughtfully got out of his seat and went around and resealed the doorframe with the duct tape. I put the transmission in gear, and released the clutch pedal to slowly engage the clutch, and gave her some gas and off we went.
It wasn't too long before we reached the river crossing. We had to wait there for about an hour before the ferry returned from the other side and we could board it. As we sat waiting for the ferry, I took this time for an opportunity to get some sleep. I told Danny to wake me when the boat showed up. I relaxed as best I could, but my nerves were vibrating from all the coffee and all the stress that I was enduring. Somehow, I was able to wind down enough to fall asleep, safe in the knowledge that our truck and trailer were blocking access to the ferry, so that if I slept too long, I was assured that someone would wake us.
It was a short-lived sleep; Danny was shaking me vigorously to roust me from my doze. I had fallen into a deep sleep in that short time, and when I forced myself to wake, it felt as if several heavy veils of thick sleep were over my eyes, and my mind. I was in less of a condition to drive now than I was before we stopped. "Coffee" I moaned, while still in a deep stupor. I hoped that a good cup of coffee would hit the spot and give me the necessary alertness to drive onto the boat.
Fumbling with the thermos lid I tried to pour myself a cup of coffee, but found that I was incapable of doing so. I couldn't stay alert long enough to complete the task. Danny had to take over, he poured me a cup of steaming hot coffee, it was too hot, and so he set it on the dash to cool. "Wake me back up in a few minutes when it has cooled." I instructed him, and then I fell dead away back into a deep sleep.
Again Danny woke me, this time I was able to reach out to the dash and grab my cup of coffee. Cradling it in both hands I brought it to my lips, it was still very warm, so I slurped in the first sip to sample it; it didn’t seem too hot, but it didn't taste right, but it was just a small slurp, so I was not sure. I took a larger sip, and this time I recognized the taste. I had tasted it once before, it was a bitter foul corrosive taste.
The first time I tasted it was when I was working in the high Arctic, I had gone south for the Christmas holidays, and the first morning after I returned I returned north I had made myself a coffee. At some point, while my back was turned, Doug laced my coffee with dish soap. I took a gulp, and of course spit it up in horror. "Welcome Back" Doug chimed glibly. Danny had forgotten to rinse the dish soap out of the thermoses, I checked them all, he hadn't missed one; they all were laced with dish soap.
I had no choice, I had to drink it; it was our only chance to make it through that night. In vein I sifted the coffee tightly through my teeth, as if that would have some how helped. It burned my throat with each swallow; I can't even describe how bad it tastes. One sip of dish soap laced coffee is bad enough, but before anyone could relate to what I am talking about; try drinking three thermoses full. It like the Richter scale, each cup is a magnitude worse than the previous cup. There are three thermoses at about four cups each, so it was pretty bad.
We rode the ferry across the river and I drove off the boat and began the long hard pull to climb up out of the depression of the river valley. I had to use first gear all the way; it was slow going. We finally made the level plane and I tried to go as fast as we could. Hours dragged on, and I had to force myself to drink the poisoned coffee to stay alert. My head wired to the roof was the only thing holding me upright, I was sagging in the seat, relying entirely on my halo to support me, if it were not for that we never would have made it. I kept repeating over and over in my mind the warning can’t sleep; clowns will eat me! Some how this worked; and I was able to force myself deeper into the night.
Eventually, there came the point when I hit the wall, I could not stay awake. I just couldn’t drive another mile; I was finished. About that time we had just passed Rae-Edzo, two small Dog Rib Indian villages side by side. This put us about a hundred miles outside Yellowknife. There was a roadside turnout, I made for it, and I had to stop.
I told Danny to wake me in about an hour or so, he said he would. I tried to sleep. But I could not, it was such agonizing irony, moments earlier I was fighting to stay awake, but now I suddenly could not sleep. Why? I pondered. I realized that I felt unsettled, and that was keeping me awake. I had programmed myself to believe that if I sleep I die. I had to satisfy myself, my true unconscious self that it was now safe to sleep. But it is safe to sleep isn’t it? We are stopped, so what's the problem?
I had to honestly evaluate myself, why do I feel so uneasy that I can't sleep now? I found after some reflection that I did not believe that Danny was awake enough to stay up long enough to wake me in a couple of hours. How much sleep has he had? I had no way of knowing. If we both fell asleep we would never wake up, we were so tired that the truck would run out of gas idling before we ever would wake up. Then we would freeze to death.
I found a long cassette tape that had only one song on it; I rewound to a point that it was farthest from where the song was, cranked the volume to the max and hit play. The white hiss in the speakers quickly eased me into a peaceful sleep, comforted in the belief that I had a reliable wake up call coming. However it came too soon, when I was awakened by the blast of music through the speakers, I felt ripped off, and I needed more sleep. I rewound the tape and reset it, and then while hanging from the hook in the roof like some veranda flowerpot, I quickly fell back to sleep.
The next time the tape played and woke me I found I was even groggier than before I stopped. But I had to carry on, if I did not leave now, I knew I would never wake up, it would be suicide. I poured myself some more of that dreadful coffee, and forced myself to drink it all down. But I was still very sleepy; I wasn't really awake at all, but in some kind of stupor. I needed to some how wake up. I unhooked my head from the roof hook and forced my door open; peeling off the duct tape we had used to seal it from the wind.
I ran around the truck a few times to try to get my energy up. I even washed my face with snow! But I was so overtired that the minus-thirty weather and the snow had little or no effect; when I climbed back into the truck I was still one blink from falling dead away into a deep sleep. I hooked myself back to the roof, and just as quickly found myself fighting to stay awake. What am I doing here? Why am I not sleeping? There must be some reason, what is it? Oh yeah, I have to let the clutch out slowly and be careful not to stall it out, I am pulling a heavy load and so I have to be careful; ran the narration in my head.
Now that’s it, good, were moving keep it going good, that’s it. Wait; there must be more, but what? What was it now that was so important that it needed my personal attention? Oh yeah, I’m pulling a trailer, I have to be careful not to round the corner so close that the trailer axles slip into the ditch. Okay, I’m good for that, easy, just ease it onto the road, no problem. No sooner were we straight on the road and I fell immediately into a deep sleep.
"Dave! Dave!" Wake up! Wake up!" Danny shouted while giving me a nudge and momentarily wakening me.
Now why can’t I sleep? I got it on the road all right, so what else am I needed for? Anyone could take it from here it doesn’t need me? Wait second gear? It takes a while to get enough speed to get it into second gear, and then once in second gear sometimes it won’t hold, it starts to slow down and we have to go back to first gear. Ok, I'll wait for that, okay faster …faster, okay good, and now try second gear. I put it into second gear, everything was all right, second gear was holding good at nearly thirty miles an hour, so I went fast asleep.
"Dave! Dave! Wake up!"
What? Again? He must mean someone else; can't he see I'm trying to sleep?
"Dave! Dave!" Wake up! Wake up!" Screamed Danny, he was now shaking me vigorously.
How rude! Can’t he see I’m trying to sleep? What is his problem? I did what I set out to do, were in second gear and moving along nicely.
"Dave! Dave!" Wake up! Wake up!! Dave! Dave! Wake up Dave!" Danny desperately tried to wake me. Hollering as loud as he could and still shaking me but now even more violently than before. He was feeling panicked, even if he was the best driver in the world, there was little he could have done, and I was plugging up the driver’s seat. But in my mind, everything was just fine; I couldn't understand why Danny was getting so upset.
Why won't he leave me alone? Oh this is really pissing me off! Why won't he just look at the damn shifter? He will see that I already got it in to second gear, and then will feel stupid and leave me alone.
"Dave! Dave!" Wake up! Wake up! Dave! Dave! Dave! Wake up!" Dave! Wake up Dave!" now he was hitting me, it seemed like I was never going to wake up, he was sure we were dead, as a last ditch effort he began punching me even harder.
Ouch, that really hurts, why is he doing this to me? Ouch, there he goes again, son of a bitch! Can't he see I got it in second gear? Why won't he leave me alone? Ouch! Again that hurts! All right that burns it! I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind! "What the hell you want? I already got it in second gear!" I roared indignantly.
"The road! Watch the road!"
"Huh?" I said as I looked up to see us heading off the road into the ditch. I quickly got us back on to the road. I don’t know how but somehow we made the rest of the way to Yellowknife, without dying or killing anyone else. Once back in Yellowknife, I slept for three days, so I wasn't much good to Ralph anyhow. When I woke up three days later I kind of felt like how Christ must have felt on Easter Sunday; but not in a sacrilegious way.