Winter Car Trouble
First of all, three contextual notes are required. The birth of my Prince was, well, dramatic. I was air-lifted to Winnipeg and induced at 32 weeks. My beautiful boy was only 3 lbs. I was advised not to have any more children. While living and working in Fort Frances, Ontario, I had access to the best child Psychiatrist I had ever met, Dr. Skinner, who worked out of Winnipeg. He would gladly come and spend the day with me once a quarter doing co-therapy. There was only one caveat. Dr. Skinner was a free spirit and connected so well with children and teens because he didn't look like a psychiatrist. He wore jeans, t-shirts, and rode his bike 12 months of the year. For some reason, he had difficulty crossing the border. As long as I would come to pick him up and drop him off, he was glad to come. A win-win for me because that meant I got him to myself for eight hours in travel time and was able to pick his brain. I would usually come the night before, stay at my mother's, pick him up at 6 am, drive to Fort Frances, spend the day with clients, and leave about 6 pm and arrive at 10 pm and spend another night at my mother's. When I got pregnant with my Princess, my mother was also undergoing cancer treatment. She really had enough on her plate and I didn't want to add to her stress by telling her I was pregnant given how my last one had ended up. I had planned to tell her at Christmas.
So, Dr. Skinner told me he was available to come on December 14. I was 34 weeks pregnant but this was a different pregnancy than my first. It was stressless. So, I had a flawless plan. I would leave at 2 am, pick up Dr. Skinner at 6 am, drive to Fort Frances for 10 am, leave at 6 pm, arrive in Winnipeg at 10 pm, and drive back and arrive at 2 am. A great 24 hours. What could possibly go wrong?
I left at 2 am in the most stylish maternity dress that was comfortable. Dr. Skinner was also in the dark about my 24 hour plan and assumed that I had stayed at my mother's as per usual. We had a great trip, a great day and a great drive back to Winnipeg. I was a little tired but in great spirits as I turned around while fluffy white snowflakes began to fall. By the time I got to Steinbach, they were no longer fluffy as I heard on the radio that they had already canceled school for the next day. By the time, I reached Sprague/Warroad, it was a veritable white-out. That was ok. I only had 36 miles to go to reach Baudette/Rainy River and I knew the road well. About 10 miles in, visibility was nothing and I was literally crawling just hoping I was on the road. I would have stopped but there was no shoulder and stopping also put me at risk. The only thing to do was to keep crawling along. I figured I was about 9 miles short of Baudette when I stopped moving. I was seriously in the ditch. I tried to open the door but couldn't. When I rolled down the window, I saw that snow was up to the window. I had lots of gas, and I was warm, so I wasn't going anywhere in my pregnant condition. This was a time before the cell phone had been invented. A nice couple came by and stopped on the side of the road. It was a good 50 yards from where I was. They said they would send help from Baudette. Beautiful. I was watching the clock and precisely every 9 minutes a car would stop. When they would get out, I would see a visibly drunk male stagger towards me. I would call, "its ok, a tow truck is on its way." Finally, my "tow truck" arrived. It was a flat bed truck with a hook attachment.
I felt like I was transported into a Dukes of Hazard episode as three good ole boys stumbled out, each drinking a different alcohol straight from a mickey. They advised me to stay where I was. Wasn't an issue because I had no intention of going anywhere. They ended up pulling the car and me straight up and then landed perfectly on the road. It was still snowing but there was some visibility. One of them advised me to drive two miles and then turn on the side road where we would settle up. I drove about two miles but couldn't see a side road or another car, so I decided I was just going to stop. As I got out, I got a better look at the flat bed truck which was a veritable recycling centre with empty beer bottles, wine bottles, and liquor bottles in all sizes. I told the guy who was in charge that I didn't have any money and wondered if he took Visa? "Do I look like I take Visa?" was his response.
He had no other option but to write me out a bill with his address and hope that I would send the money. He told me it was going to be very expensive. I understand. It took three guys in the middle of the night in treacherous conditions. I didn't even look at the bill until I got home because I knew it was going to be a lot. I looked .$35. I sent him $50.
The moral of the story is that if you want to speed, the 36 miles between Warroad and Baudette are a good option. There doesn't appear to be any law enforcement.
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