Tunnel Vision

Tunnel Vision

  Many years ago, my wife and I moved from the western side of the state to the eastern side. The main difference, aside from all the left-wing political garbage was the climate. The west was generally wet, while the east was drier. The West often had harsh to violent winter coastal storms, while the East often had its snow come straight down.

  Our first winter was not only a game-changer but a record-setter as we seemed to have arrived just in time to set the area's snowfall record, 144 inches. Almost all of it came in one month. Now to be fair, we lived near a big lake and as a result, we had lake-effect snow, whereas other people only a few miles away did not. 

  Every night it dumped several inches of snow, and every night I got up in the middle of the night to move snow. Eventually, you can only throw snow so high as you get more and more tired with each passing day. Many people lost buildings and even houses under the weight of the snow.

  In such an unending environment the cycle of wake up, move snow, sleep a little more, wake, go to work, get off work, move more snow just reinforces a tunnel-vision mindset.

  With Tunnel Vision, You Forget Things.

  One late night coming home from work the snow was troublesome. The snow plow had obviously already plowed the road less than an hour ago. But it was filling in so fast that there was already a new foot of snow for my older 4-runner to push through. As each mile passed my mind was already adjusting to the idea of another late-night walking behind the snowblower, hoping for a little sleep just to do it all over again.

  I pulled into our long driveway, thankfully that I could still drive it. And then, I got stuck trying to back up into my parking spot… argh. Making my way into the house my wife Kathy asked, “How come you didn’t back up?”

  “Got stuck,” I grumbled as I peeled my coat off.

  “Do you have it in 4-wheel drive?” Kathy asked.

  “Of course I did, that’s how I got home,” I answered back as I headed for the restroom.

  Returning back, I started putting my insulated coverall on as I knew I needed to get back outside when Kathy said, “Hey the snow pulled the cable off the TV antenna could you fix it before you start blowing?”

  With a deep sight of ‘just one more thing I needed to do,’ I answered, “Yeah, it will take a few minutes, but I’m not blowing snow yet. I want to get the 4-runner unstuck first, then I will blow snow.”

  With a puzzled look, Kathy responded back, “Are you sure it’s in 4-wheel?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I snapped back tired and irritated.

  “Well when you get done, dinner will be ready,” Kathy responded back.

  I went outside, found the snowshoes, and then the ladder. Walking in size 500 feet is hard enough, add a ladder and it becomes a clown show. I had dug a channel near the side of the house a couple of days before, so that was good. But the snow burn I needed to ascend was just as high as I was (6’2”). So all in all it was going to be an adventure to make this happen. Getting on top I moved to the antenna mast that was next to the window Kathy was watching me from.

  I drove the latter deeply into the snow and discovered a serious issue. How do you climb a ladder with snow shoes? So in my tired mind, I worked out the idea of taking one shoe off and ‘hopping’ up the ladder. I managed to get to the top, fixed the problem to hear the window open below me, “I’VE GOT TV!!!!”

  Hopping up was one thing, hopping down… well that did not work out well. The next thing I knew I was falling backward. And with a big “poof” I was suddenly head first in the snow with my one snowshoe above me.

  With the window still open I could hear Kathy hilariously laughing her head off as I opened my eyes to see her centered in the middle of the tunnel I just made. Irritated, with snow packing into every unprotected area around my neck I yelled for assistance. Soon Kathy tossed me a  30-foot dog lead from the window that we had used many years ago. Pulling, struggling I was almost up when…” SNAP,” it broke and I dove even deeper into the snow.

  Growing madder I lay there upside-down in the snow as laughter filled my ears. Then I realized just how close I was to the channel I had cut days before. So I started rolling to fallout into the path. Getting up the laughter increased as (according to Kathy’s description) the abominable snowman was now standing in her yard.

   Struggling back through the snow, I eventually got my other snowshoe that was near the ladder as Kathy asked from the comfort of the other side of the window, “Do you want to come back in and warm up first?”

  “No, it's only going to get deeper. I need to move the 4-runner,” I answered.

  “How are you going to do it?” She asked.

  “I’ll get some chains and I’ll attach them to a come-a-long,” I remarked as I worked to remove the snow from inside my coat.

  Time passed, and I got everything hooked up as Kathy came out to drive the 4-runner as I got ready to work the come-a-long. 

  “Are you SURE it’s in 4-wheel drive?” She asked.

  Tired of this line of conversation I barked back, “Yes I’m sure.”

  “I really think you should double-check it,” Kathy insisted.

  Growing more irritated I stomped off to the front to the 4-runner and checked the hub, “Look, it’s turned in.” I announced as I stopped over to the passenger side, put my gloved hand over the hub, and… dang, it's not turned in.” Apparently in my tiredness when I left work to go home, I had only engaged one hub. No wonder it took so long to get home, fighting the roads in 2-wheel drive.

  With a bit of a smirk and a laugh, Kathy watched as I easily got the 4-runner unstuck.