The Snow, the Rubber, the Helpless Determination and the Steel

One more brick in my wall of knowledge.

It had already been a busy day, and now midway through it (if daylight is any measure) I had the bright idea to move a little snow.  A couple inches had accumulated since early in the morning and since I was free until evening and hadn't yet had a reasonable opportunity to try out the snow blower, this seemed like the moment.  Entombing myself in thermal underwear, outwear, my heretofore unworn quilted and insulated Carhartt overalls, parka, knitted ski mask and gloves, I lurched out to the barn, raised the door and fired up the Kubota.  After a few tentative passes I was trying to convince myself that it really was doing a good job, while subconsciously trying to ignore the fact that it wasn't.  The blower attachment seemed, well, tilted, and though plenty of snow was billowing out of the exhaust shoot, the driveway passes didn't seem all that smooth.  But I was sitting up there proudly behind the wheel, captain of my own equipment. 

In a fit of  thoroughness I extended my pass out beyond the driveway entrance and into the road where I turned around and faced back up the drive when this "Captain of His Own Equipment" found himself tilted at a marginal angle and, like the ill-fated Captain of the Italian cruise ship, hopelessly stuck with wheels spinning.  My first thought was, "who knew this little entering incline would pose such a wintertime problem?"  Attempting the usual "rocking" maneuver familiar to wintertime motorists stuck in the snow, I managed a few forward bursts, only to feel the tractor trapped in a perpetually circling movement.  Stepping off to scrape the icy surface away for some grassy traction, I recognized the more substantive problem.  I had a flat tire. 

Perfect!  Stuck in the snow on the side of a country road, perilously close to the culvert with a flat tire.  Now a day later and reflecting on the situation, I don't really know why I was so flummoxed.  I've changed lots of tires before -- even worked in a tire store a couple of summers in junior high.  But staring at that limping tractor mired in the snow it was supposed to be clearing, I felt helpless.  My brain was as paralyzed as my wheels.   I didn't have a clue how to solve the problem, but I couldn't imagine leaving my prized equipment by the side of the road until the snow melted.  In a fit of desperation I called the salesman at the equipment store who had delivered it.  Secretly, I suppose, I fantasized him saying something like, "No worries.  I'm in the neighborhood and will be happy to stop by and help."  Instead, he suggested I put it in four-wheel drive and see if I could get some movement.  I hadn't remembered I had such an option.  Thanking him, I hung up and made the shift.  Nothing.  I called back.  He suggested a car jack. 

Well, the short version of the remaining story is that my car's lug wrench didn't fit, and the thingamagadget jack seemed too specific and perilous for my immediate and broader application.  So, after a trip to the tool shop for a metric socket socket set (which I am embarrassed to say required a learning curve of their own), and then the auto parts store for a heftier jack (which came packaged with practically useless instructions, but that's another story), the tire was fairly simply removed.  And after a repairing plug was inserted in the wounded tire by a charitable auto shop serviceman at closing time, I skittered home as quickly as the icy roads would permit, restored the tire to its axle, lowered the jack, fired up the engine, and roared my way almost effortlessly up the drive just as the sun was setting.  Tempting fate, I lowered the blower and made a few redemptive passes up and down the driveway, amazed at how much more effectively it worked leveled and straight.  I was so proud...

...of the equipment, which I finally was able to test drive, but also myself.  I had waded into the difficulty, albeit hesitantly and clumsily, and clawed my way out triumphantly on the other side.  And, in a giddy extension of Christmas, came away with a few new tools to brag about.  God only knows what might happen when I get around to trying out the chainsaw.