Idiots on Ice
The weather this fall, as in the last few years, has been very mild. We've had little in the way of snow, and temperatures have been well above freezing, for the most part. It used to be unusual for this to happen. In years past, our area has been very cold.
This week has been somewhat of a return to normal, as temps have dropped quite a bit, the wind has picked up, and there's a threat of snow. All this thought of winter weather has made me remember one of my more notable near-death experiences.
It would have been Christmas break of my junior year of high school, either shortly after Xmas 1988 or right after New Year 1989. Christmas break is a dangerous time for the high school student. At the time, it was nearly impossible to get a temporary job during the break, so it left you with a bit of idle time. My best friend and I were bored, and looking for trouble. One of the universal constants is that when two teenage boys are looking for trouble, they will always find it. ALWAYS.
As I said, winters used to be different. We could almost always count on a serious cold snap right around Christmas, with temperatures dropping as low as -30 or -40 degrees Fahrenheit. This year was like that. We suffered through the blistering cold, but on the day in question, the weather turned nice. It was clear and relatively calm. We decided to go ice fishing.
There is a reservoir not too far from my parents' house that is a popular place for fishermen and outdoorsy types. We packed the auger and the tip-ups in my friend's truck (an avocado green Ford Courier he called "Kermit") and headed for the lake.
It was possible, at the time, to drive out on the lake. Not advisable, mind you, but possible. There were very few other people on the lake at the time, but some of them had driven much larger trucks onto the ice. We went for it. After drilling holes and watching poles for quite some time, it became apparent that the fish weren't biting. We grew bored. This was not a good thing. Eventually, we decided to hop into the truck and spin some cookies on the ice. This was also not a good thing.
The ice was in great shape, thick and blue, very smooth. We spun around for a while and got braver. Not good. At some point it was decided that we would attempt to throw the truck into a spin from 60 miles per hour. I don't know why we decided this, and I don't know why we decided on 60 mph, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. As you might guess, it takes quite a stretch of road to bring a Ford Courier up to 60 mph, but he got Kermit up to speed and cranked the wheel.
There's a phenomenon that happens on frozen lakes called a pressure ridge. It happens because as the ice heats and cools, it expands and contracts, sometimes cracking. Sometimes these cracks fill in with water, which also freezes, leaving a ridge higher than the surrounding ice. Some of these ridges can be pretty tall.
So there we were, rushing along sideways, completely out of control, and we're coming up on one of those pressure ridges awfully fast. There was no time to react, nothing we could do. We hit it broadside with both wheels at the same time. The truck went airborne, leading with the driver's door. I don't know how long we were in the air, but it seemed like forever. Unbelievably, the truck came to land on all four wheels as smoothly as any airplane landing I've ever experienced. After quite some time, we finally came to a stop. We didn't say a word, just drove back to the ridge to check it out. The ridge itself was probably 18" tall, three feet wide, and came to a peak at the top. The perfect ramp.
We decided not to tempt fate again, and headed back to our fishing holes. We packed up the gear and left before any of the few fishermen on the ice decided to try to track down the Sheriff.
I don't know how we managed to pull off that maneuver without
A.) falling through the ice.
B.) rolling the truck.
C.) harming ourselves.
D.) getting arrested.
And before you ask, yes, it was very cool. And no, I never want to do it again.
This week has been somewhat of a return to normal, as temps have dropped quite a bit, the wind has picked up, and there's a threat of snow. All this thought of winter weather has made me remember one of my more notable near-death experiences.
It would have been Christmas break of my junior year of high school, either shortly after Xmas 1988 or right after New Year 1989. Christmas break is a dangerous time for the high school student. At the time, it was nearly impossible to get a temporary job during the break, so it left you with a bit of idle time. My best friend and I were bored, and looking for trouble. One of the universal constants is that when two teenage boys are looking for trouble, they will always find it. ALWAYS.
As I said, winters used to be different. We could almost always count on a serious cold snap right around Christmas, with temperatures dropping as low as -30 or -40 degrees Fahrenheit. This year was like that. We suffered through the blistering cold, but on the day in question, the weather turned nice. It was clear and relatively calm. We decided to go ice fishing.
There is a reservoir not too far from my parents' house that is a popular place for fishermen and outdoorsy types. We packed the auger and the tip-ups in my friend's truck (an avocado green Ford Courier he called "Kermit") and headed for the lake.
It was possible, at the time, to drive out on the lake. Not advisable, mind you, but possible. There were very few other people on the lake at the time, but some of them had driven much larger trucks onto the ice. We went for it. After drilling holes and watching poles for quite some time, it became apparent that the fish weren't biting. We grew bored. This was not a good thing. Eventually, we decided to hop into the truck and spin some cookies on the ice. This was also not a good thing.
The ice was in great shape, thick and blue, very smooth. We spun around for a while and got braver. Not good. At some point it was decided that we would attempt to throw the truck into a spin from 60 miles per hour. I don't know why we decided this, and I don't know why we decided on 60 mph, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. As you might guess, it takes quite a stretch of road to bring a Ford Courier up to 60 mph, but he got Kermit up to speed and cranked the wheel.
There's a phenomenon that happens on frozen lakes called a pressure ridge. It happens because as the ice heats and cools, it expands and contracts, sometimes cracking. Sometimes these cracks fill in with water, which also freezes, leaving a ridge higher than the surrounding ice. Some of these ridges can be pretty tall.
So there we were, rushing along sideways, completely out of control, and we're coming up on one of those pressure ridges awfully fast. There was no time to react, nothing we could do. We hit it broadside with both wheels at the same time. The truck went airborne, leading with the driver's door. I don't know how long we were in the air, but it seemed like forever. Unbelievably, the truck came to land on all four wheels as smoothly as any airplane landing I've ever experienced. After quite some time, we finally came to a stop. We didn't say a word, just drove back to the ridge to check it out. The ridge itself was probably 18" tall, three feet wide, and came to a peak at the top. The perfect ramp.
We decided not to tempt fate again, and headed back to our fishing holes. We packed up the gear and left before any of the few fishermen on the ice decided to try to track down the Sheriff.
I don't know how we managed to pull off that maneuver without
A.) falling through the ice.
B.) rolling the truck.
C.) harming ourselves.
D.) getting arrested.
And before you ask, yes, it was very cool. And no, I never want to do it again.
posted by ptooey at
8:51 AM
|
2 comments
