At the start of business on Monday morning I called the insurance agent. After several minutes of verbal "encouragement" on my part he finally agreed to act on the situation. I asked if towing was covered on the policy, he checked the computer terminal and said "Sure." He further stated that an Allstate Insurance Company approved towing company would call to handle the details of the extraction.
He was right. Within 10 minutes my phone rang. I very carefully explained the predicament and the difficulty of the trail. He listened carefully, never saying a word. When I finished he said "I'm not equipped to handle that, but someone else will be calling you in a few minutes." I hung up half laughing, half crying. Half laughing because he wimped out without actually seeing the trail. Half crying because I knew that his sight-unseen admission of defeat attested to how difficult this task was going to be. Only a few minutes passed and the phone rang again. This wrecker person was named "Bob". I repeated my description of the steepness of the road and where the truck was located. "Bob, do you think you can handle this?" Bob's reply was something out of a John Wayne movie: "Son, I don this for a living!" Indeed.
Bob said to meet him at his junkyard, excuse me "salvage yard", with my mounted tires and rims. When Holly dropped me off, it was about 10 AM. I did not bring lunch or a camera (stupid), but I did bring water (smart). I expected the best, since Bob was so sure of himself. Big mistake. The "salvage yard" looked more like a landfill than a place where cars were dismantled for spare parts. Bob's "wrecker" was indeed a wreck - a 1950 Chevy 1 1/2 ton 4WD. And, Bob's vintage was equivalent to that of the truck. He was perhaps late 50's, early 60's. Jesus, what a day this was going to be.
We secured the tires to the winch housing and away we went toward Agua Caliente, my fate and that of my truck's resting on Bob's skill and the mechanical integrity of his 27 year old truck.
We reached the trail head, got out to lock the hubs and take a leak. Once we started on the trail and started bouncing, I realized he didn't have any seat belts. Oh, Lordy. The ride was intense. Even though Bob was a slow and careful driver, the hard springs of that truck combined with the lack of seat belts produced a set of bumps on the top of my head from impact with the ceiling. As the road got steeper, Bob started smiling and hooting like a drunk cowboy "Eee-hawww". Then he tells me about the time he broke his thumb because he forgot to keep them on the correct side of the steering wheel. His truck didn't have power steering, so every bump is transmitted back into wheel motion. If you grip the wheel "thumb-around" and you hit a large bump, the wheel will whip and break your thumb. Great. My fate lies with this fellow. Bigger than shit, just as he his finishing his story about the thumb, we hit a rock and, yes you guessed it, the wheel whips. Fortunately for Bob, he was just bruised. In pain, cussing like a scalded sailor, but just bruised. Me? I'm silent considering the aspect of having to finish my mission in this piece of shit wrecker with Bob as the passenger.
As fate would have it, the balance of the approach to the Agua Caliente Wash was uneventful. White knuckle, but uneventful. My head hurt from the constant impact with the ceiling. Plus, given our slow rate of travel, I was hungry. Should have brought lunch! And, as we'll soon see, I should have brought the camera too.
A we reached the bottom of Agua Caliente Canyon, Bob stopped and we got out to survey the situation. He had started to open up a little. Actually not a bad dude, just a little rough on the edges. Clearly, he was having fun. Must have been the first challenge in a while. And what a challenge it turned out to be.
We devised our attack plan. We would go nose up the trail to the second switch back. There, I would get out and spot him and he would back up the hill. Once close to the Blazer, we would haul the wheels up the hill and install them. Then we would use the winch and pulley to roll the Blazer over onto its wheels and I would "drive" it down the grade, without power steering or power brakes, into the wash. At that point, he would take the truck in tow and we would drive home. We discussed it at length. We considered alternatives and contingencies. It was a well planned plan. All we needed to do now was execute it.
By now it was about 2 PM. I was thinking that if all went well we could be back onto the blacktop by dark. It would be close, not much margin for error, but doable. So, with our plan in mind, and optimism in my heart, we headed for the second switch back. I got out and positioned myself such that Bob could see me from his rear view mirror. "OK, bring it on back" I shouted and gave hand signs. Bob slips the wrecker in reverse and starts his reverse ascent of the grade. I can hear the "Grrrrrrrr" of the compound low reverse gears as the wheels traverse the loose scree and gravel on the trail. The front wheels, bearing a significant fraction of the tractive burden begin to spin. Being the seasoned off-roader that he is, Bob backs off the gas a little and the spinning stops. "Grrrrrrr". The wrecker continues its ascent, but suddenly, the front wheels start to spin again. only this time, it is accompanied with a "snap". The forward momentum halts. Bob depresses the clutch, stomps the brakes and the wrecker starts sliding for the edge of the switch back.
Helpless, I watched as the wrecker slid toward the edge of the cliff. Luck prevails and the wrecker stops short of the precipice. Bob's face looks white. He engages reverse and lets out the clutch. The back tires spin, but the front wheels are frozen. He tries again with the same result. Again. As the rear wheels proceed to dig trenches, he shouts "I feels like the front screws aren't turning. Tell me if you see the front drive shaft rotate when I let out the clutch". "Yeah, Bob, the front drive shaft turns fine". This observation could mean only one thing - the front axle was broken. The trail was steep enough that couldn't even back up enough to negotiate the switch back. So, Bob was stuck where he was. Can't go up because the rear wheels alone provided insufficient traction. Can't go down because his front wheels are to the lip of the cliff. "Son, I do this for a living!". Indeed.
Bob reeled out the tow cable and hooked it around a large boulder to prevent the truck from slipping. He then took a strain on the cable "Just to be sure".
By now, my heart has fallen through my asshole and was headed toward the center of gravity in the Earth. I sat in the dirt and considered the situation. Bob is totally pissed at his truck, and at me for getting him in the situation in the first place. I was PERSONALLY responsible for: 1) Breaking his truck. 2) Stranding us in the middle of the mountains with only a few hours of daylight. 3) Depriving him of his method of livelihood. 4) Every other problem Bob had. Not bad for a few hours work. "Besides", I told him, "I warned you about this trail. I told you how tough it was". My ex-boss Jim Palmer from Horizons Technology was right: "You can't tell people shit".
No time for feuding. Only a few hours of light left. The good news was I knew the way out of the hills. This was only a small consolation to Bob as we started that long, cold walk down Agua Caliente Wash. Again. Like the first time wasn't enough. This was becoming a bad dream come true.
Actually, for an old fucker, Bob did OK in the canyon. He seemed sufficiently agile for a man in his "golden years" and didn't complain at all. In fact he didn't talk at all. For about three hours. I tell you, it's tough being the cause of all the problems in a person's life. Actually, I didn't mind the silence. It gave me a chance to think about what would have to happen next to get my Blazer back to safety.
This "little" hike was substantially better than the previous outing. Not only was it lighter, but I didn't get as wet. And, I knew where I was going - back to the rancher with the shotgun. As we entered his property, he recognized me. "What brings youall back here?". "To get my truck out. My friend here has a wrecker. But we broke the front axle, so we had to walk out again." "Gee son, that's too bad! Do you want to use the phone?" My thoughts exactly. I guess it was out of professional pride, but Bob wouldn't let me call Holly. Instead, he insisted that he call is nephew. But, I protested, "Holly knows where to pick us up". He prevailed. And, like the previous time, the driver got lost and we spent and extra hour walking, waiting for his nephew's "2-seats-for-3-people" Land Cruiser to come. "You can't tell people shit".
We did eventually get home, though it was about 8 PM. Bob's last words were "meet me at the yard at oh eight hundred hours tomorrow morning and be prepared to work!". Aye aye.
Food and a hot shower really helped but what a disaster! Not only did we fail at getting my truck out of the hills, but now we had two pieces of equipment on the hill. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I did neither. I just slept.