Twenty #2
“We are going to put the winch in neutral and I’m going down the hill with the line and connecting it to your car.
On my signal you are going to put the winch back into drive and super slow bring the line in until it’s tight.
Too fast and you will need a new axle. Then get inside the truck, and while the truck is still in park so it doesn’t go anywhere, give it some gas.
The winch needs the power. Then slowly and very steady reel the line in. Slow and steady, no fast jerks.”
“No fast jerks,” I repeated.
Craig laughed and reached over to push a length of damp hair behind my ear. “Just slow and steady, right to the top. I’m going to steer your car in reverse to help out once we get going. Okay, now repeat it back to me.”
I did, flipping the winch’s neutral switch as I did. Hands-on explanations always made more sense to me. That’s probably why I taught biology instead of history, the hands-on lab work.
“Good. Remember to wait for my signal that I’m all hooked up before flipping the winch to drive and tightening the line.”
“Got it,” I nodded.
Throwing the winch in neutral Craig grabbed the hook and his cane. “And watch the line. Usually, I use gloves. You can lose a finger if you’re not careful.” Then he was over the edge.
Rain dripped from my hair down my forehead.
Wiping it out of the corner of my eye I peered through the mix of shadow and dazzling bright beams of light.
Craig made it to the bottom and was now laying in the mud, shimmying under the back of my car, dragging the winch line with him.
For a moment all I could see were his legs jutting out like the wicked witch beneath Dorothy’s House in Oz.
I gasped as his legs spasmed momentarily.
What if the car crushed him, sinking farther in the mud or slipping further.
The spasm continued and when I saw his head I realized he was just backing out from underneath my car.
Grabbing the back of the bumper he pulled himself up and then gave the tow line a series of tugs. Seemingly satisfied he spun his hand in the air over his head. With a start I realized that was the signal.
Fumbling with the controller I found the switch and mashed it.
Nothing happened. The clutch! Slow down Rilee.
If you pass in haste no one catches the ball.
Taking a deep breath, I flipped the lever and watching the reel, slowly pushed the toggle.
I heard the machine hum and then engage, like a noisy microwave.
The spool began rotating, pulling in the blue ropey line.
I saw the slack go out and slowed it to a crawl.
The truck groaned and the line itself contracted, thinning as it tightened under the tension, changing shape to meet the demands asked of it.
I looked up at a sharp whistle and saw Craig holding both his hands up, and I released the toggle. The line stayed tight.
Even in the crazy mix of harsh light and shadow, Craig’s smile beamed.
He gave me a thumbs up, and then, leaning hand over hand against my car, crept up to the driver’s door and climbed in.
I saw the brake lights flicker and the white reverse lights come on.
Then he stuck his hand out the window in a thumbs up.
I began to press the toggle again and then remembered, Craig said give it gas.
Climbing into the truck I pulled the seat forward, keeping my own arm outside with the winch controller.
Leaning my head out was easier than looking through the wet windshield.
With the truck in park, I pressed the gas pedal and as the sound of the engine rose I slowly depressed the winch toggle.
The truck strained forward, groaning all around me but I actually felt the back strap around the tree engage.
Never before had I noticed every creak, pop or shiver of a vehicle.
It was like lying against another person.
The winch slowly cranked and I tried to understand its groans.
For a moment I felt more than heard the truck settle, the tension going slack, but in a reacting rebound I increased the pressure of my thumb and the tension returned to normal.
Then the back of my car was up, emerging over the road’s edge.
It had worked! In shock and relief I released the toggle and the white reverse lights disappeared back over the edge.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I reengaged the winch, instinctively increasing the pressure in a slow steady grip.
The lights came back, and slid up and over the edge.
When the car was level, I released the controller.
Craig’s thumbs up reappeared out the door window and I let out a shivering wheeze that rattled into my lower ribs.
Both Craig and I got out at the same time.
Mud covered him, belt line to foot. At some point he’d taken off his jacket.
I didn’t understand until he reached into my car and pulled out his jacket which was caked with sticky mud.
He’d laid it down to keep the mud from his pants off the seats.
He began to slip it back on but saw it was more dirt than fabric now.
Instead, he tossed it down as a ground cloth and slid under my car to unhook the winch cable.
“The axels look fine. Lots of brush on the undercarriage and some scratched paint up front but I think it’s drivable.” He stepped close and took the winch controller from my hand. “You did great. I only gave it some gas on the last rise.”
A pair of cars approached out of the gloom and Craig waved them on as he picked up the flares and unhooked the truck from the tree.
My legs shook and I needed to sit down. I’d long ago lost track of time but my body was beginning to dump out the stress I’d been forcing through it.
There were clumps of mud on the floor mat but somehow Craig had kept the seat clean.
Oh, his coat! It was a total loss, and I watched him toss it in the back of the pickup with the straps and tools instead of putting it back on.
“You okay?” He asked me, leaning one hand on my car.
Pushing wet hair out of my face I nodded, leaning out the window, “I can’t thank you enough. I really don’t know how I would have gotten out of there.”
With a snort he disagreed, “Yes you do. You’d climb out and call a tow truck, or flag someone down. I just happened to be right on your heels.”
He was right, but what would have been hours of crazy was over in, I glanced at the clock, thirty minutes. Had it only been thirty minutes? A shiver jerked through his body, his shirt beginning to stick to him in the wet air.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to follow you home to make sure you don’t have any mechanical problems on the way. Okay?” he asked.
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.” I should have said more but I was too tired and my lips felt slow.
“Okay then,” tapping his hand on the roof of my car he took a last look at me before heading back to his truck.
The drive back was slow. I went ten under the speed limit and used a ton of washer fluid to get the windshield clean.
Remembering the connectedness in the truck I left the radio off, listening to the engine and the sound of the wheels on the road, trying to discern if I could hear anything different.
Anything wrong. I really couldn’t tell. Honestly, I hadn’t paid enough attention to know what my car sounded like when it was healthy.
Without the comparison knowing what it sounded like when it was sick was probably beyond my abilities.
True to his word the square headlights of Craig’s truck followed me back to the highway, and then to I-90 and back to Spokane.
By the time I pulled into my alley my legs had stopped shaking.
Parking my car, I let it run for a moment, just listening.
To my car. To the beating of my pulse, thudding in my ears.
To my heart. Craig’s truck pulled up beside me.
I rolled the window down, not quite strong enough to get out.
He rolled his passenger window down and turned on his overhead light.
“You alright?” he asked, for probably the fortieth time tonight.
What a disaster. I’d turned an unbelievable night into– I had no idea.
I was too numb and exhausted to move let alone think about the way Craig’s damp shirt had clung to the lines of his chest, and how his firm fingers felt in my hand trudging up the hill.
“I’m okay,” I nodded. “I’m okay.”
“Can I still call you?”
I couldn’t hold the laugh in, “Of course. If you really want to.”
“Well, I’ll do that then.” He looked down at his lap with a funny look, and then added, “Though it may be a little while before I get cleaned up.”
I laughed again because it hid the tears pooling at the edge of my eyes. “That’s fine. I probably need to visit a car wash.”
Craig laughed back, “Okay then. I’ll see you around.” Then he rolled his windows up and drove away.
On the passenger floor board was my missing boot, covered in mud. Craig had found it. The sight of it broke me. He’d saved me, and my boot. Alone in the mess of an evening, I murmured, “Both my car and I need a wash.”