We all leave having not found our machinery, but I having met the owner of the Flying W. And after all, it’s not my truck that is stuck, though I am a bit perturbed to learn from Warren that if the company has to send out a rig they would expect me to pay. I don’t tell him, but that would cause a bit of a fight.Since we’ve been out near Birkenfeld for a bit, I decide we should go back and look for Bill Kyser. As we cross the bridge and start up the hill to the Birkie Store I see a huge yellow grader on the side of the road. Just that day a grader had been running up and down our road smoothing out the ripples in the gravel. It was a big unit, but not like this. Four wheels in the rear, two in front, each as tall as I am. There was a ladder to get into the cab. Across the back is a broad yellow sign declaring, WIDE LOAD.

Just as we make the u-turn and pull in behind this beast, a wiry man in evident good humor walks out of the store with a cup of coffee in one hand and fumbling for some keys in the other. I walk right up to him and without introduction ask him if he’s been very busy today. He replies now and we introduce ourselves. His name is Tim, and after we explain our story he agrees to come up Vesper Lane and give us a tow at the same time shaking his head and saying, "I really shouldn’t be doing this." Even as he mutters this, the twinkle in his eye says that he loves the idea of the challenge. Besides, as I’ve found out here, there is nothing neighbors like to do more than help neighbors. Sometimes even the ones they don’t like.

"I feel like a kid bringing home a dragon."

We trundle down the road, I in the lead as "flag" with my flashers going. I feel like a kid bringing home a dragon. We pass Bill Kyser. I don’t recognize his vehicle at first because he has the cap off the back. We stop and he says that his dozer has a dead battery and he’s going to get a new one. We continue on, arriving at the scene; the truck an enormous beached whale listing to one side. Tim surveys the situation and declares that it’s even too slippery out there for him. He’s got his road tires on the grader, which even I can tell look pretty slick. If he too gets stuck he’s in real trouble. He has a 35’ choker cable, but it only gets half way to the rig. I hop in my truck in search of more chain or cable. Fortunately Gwen is home just two doors down and indeed she has some chain and a cable. I race back, we hook up and are ready for our first tug. Snap, the chain breaks somewhere near the truck. Warren suspects he’s snapped the tow hook right off the truck, but it turns out his bright new length of chain is sheared in two. They hook up again. This time Gwen’s chain snaps and a section fires back and riccochets off the graders front blade. Two more attempts are made, but each time something breaks. Tim has run out of time and has to go. I thank him profusely. He is sorry he couldn’t be of more help. Tim climbs into his cab, and I can hear his reverse beeper fade into the distance as he backs up the two and a half miles down Vesper Lane at an astonishing clip.

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