October 3, 2007

• Which adrenaline rush?

  Our old chainsaw hadn’t been run in almost nine years.  Last time we needed some trees cut down that were threatening to fall on our roof, it wouldn’t start, so Charley (my ex, Doug’s dad), who was doing the cutting, used his own saw.  Since then, his old saw broke and he has been unable to obtain the part he needs to fix it.  A few days ago, he and Doug and I took our saw to the shop for an overhaul and sharpening.  Doug and I picked it up yesterday and stopped at Charley’s cabin on the way home, to let him know we had the saw so he could decide when he wanted to come over and do the tree cutting.  I did the driving that time, and waited in the car while Doug did all the to-ing and fro-ing.

  I had a rough night last night, and wasn’t breathing well today. When Charley called this morning to say he was ready whenever we’d come and get him, I woke Doug.  I didn’t feel it would be safe for me to drive, considering the way I stagger around and keep feeling faint from lack of oxygen, so I wanted him to drive to pick up his dad.  He has a learner’s permit, which requires that he drive only when accompanied by a licensed driver, so I had to go along to keep him legal.

  Until today, all of Doug’s driving mileage has been on the dirt roads around here, and he had never been out of the lowest two gears.  His shifting is still gear-grindingly rough, he lurches to a start, turns wide and often too fast, and sometimes forgets to clutch when he stops, stalling the engine.  He’s got a lot of bad driving habits to unlearn from playing GTA and other games.  On his latest previous driving lesson, he got distracted by something beside the road and drove into the ditch.  That was just a few blocks after taking a turn so fast that we both felt the wheels on one side lift off the ground, and just shortly before I told him to head for home.

  I had all that in mind and wasn’t feeling sanguine about having him drive the mile or so to Charley’s place, but after discussing it with Doug we concluded that there was less risk in his driving than in mine under the circumstances.  We can do most of the trip on back roads, so there was only about a third of a mile of highway that he had to traverse.  He started the car, stalled the engine on his first attempt to back out of the driveway, and lurched out on the next try, almost into the opposite ditch — par for the course, nothing to worry about.

  We made it around the first two turns and were discussing the proper technique of slowing down as one approaches a turn, then lightly accelerating into it, as we approached the third turn.  It is a blind corner, and he started his left turn a little early, putting him in the middle of the road as he entered the intersection and we saw the wrecker (tow-truck) approaching.  We seldom encounter traffic on these back roads, and had never been this close to a head-on collision before.

  Doug says he was starting to hit the clutch and brake when my yelp startled him and caused him to hit the gas instead.  Fortunately, he was reflexively steering to the right and the road was wide enough at that point that he didn’t go all the way into the ditch.  Whew!  We made it through that turn and were at the stop sign by the highway when we started discussing the strategy for the paved stretch of the trip.  He said he wasn’t confident about shifting, wasn’t sure where third gear was, and I said if he planned to go the whole way in second gear he’d have to hug the shoulder and use his emergency flashers so no fast car or big truck would rear-end us.

  After he pulled onto the highway, I talked him up to third gear, then told him to maintain his course and speed until he got across the railroad tracks, then begin to slow down for the left turn off the highway just beyond the tracks.  He acknowledged the instructions, but I didn’t detect any deceleration until he was entering the turn, when he hit the brakes the same time he twisted the wheel.  We veered across the highway and bumped off onto the dirt road and nearly into the ditch before he got it straightened out.  We had a couple of blocks then, in which to discuss what is meant by “slow down” (he had taken his foot off the gas, and the tranny out of gear, free-wheeling, not braking) and the proper technique for making turns (again), before we got to where we were going.

  I stayed put while Doug went to fetch Charley.  As they were walking toward the car, I heard Charley say to Doug, “What adrenaline rush?”  I said to Charley as he opened the door, “The operant question there is, “Which adrenaline rush?”  Charley got into the driver’s seat and Doug climbed into the back for the ride over here.  The adrenaline in my system was apparently stronger than pneumonia.  It had cleared up some of my mental fog and was allowing me to breathe more freely, so I got my camera and kept the guys company while they worked, making sure that the trees that were cut were the ones that needed to go.

  

  Doug climbed a ladder and tied a rope onto the bug-infested spruce tree.

  

  Then he pulled on the rope to make sure it fell next to the woodpile, where we wanted it.

  

  Charley cut that one down, and it fell just where we wanted it.

  

  The butt end of the felled tree shows the tunnels of the carpenter ants.  You can take my word for it that there is plenty of evidence of bark beetle infestation as well.

  

  Doug roped a smallish aspen that was leaning toward the house.  It has been losing its leaves to leaf miners for several years, looking increasingly sickly.  It fell where we wanted it, too.

  Another aspen, bigger and even sicklier, wasn’t threatening to fall on the house or cars, so Charley cut it without the rope, notching it to fall the way it was naturally bent.

  

  When he got it cut through, the tree just stood there on its stump until he and Doug used two splitting mauls to encourage it to fall.  Charley held the head of one wedged into the cut, while Doug swung the other and drove in the wedge.  It fell, finally, where it was supposed to, and the last small tree also fell close enough to where it was aimed that it didn’t quite wipe out the fuel oil barrel. 

  There were enough close calls that everyone had a few more adrenaline surges before the job was done.  My adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet when we took Charley home, so I did the driving.  Now, I’m ready to crawl into bed with a book.

  • 11:21 pm
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