AchingBack
Elite Member
In southern Oregon, we rarely face icy roads; so it is quite rare to face driving in such conditions - especially on a 59 year old, 2wd tractor. The story below was published in our local paper.
How bad was it? | MailTribune.com
Chris Crawford, Medford
The recent cold snap led me to discover a new winter sport. It all began when my wife, Kathy, driving home just a little too late on Friday afternoon, got stuck in the ice on West Griffin Creek Road. That particular area is in a cellphone dead spot, so she couldn't call me. Fortunately, our neighbor Kristen was right behind her in a four-wheel-drive car, so Kristen went ahead and called me when she got back into cellphone range.
I bundled up and hopped onto my trusty 1954 Ferguson tractor. It took me a good 15 minutes to reach Kathy's reported location. She was gone! Alas and alack, a friendly fellow had helped her chain up her car, and she made it out on her own. Rather than risk getting stuck again, she had headed back down to the valley to spend the night with a friend. By the time she got into cellphone range, I was on the tractor and out of cellphone contact.
Not finding Kathy where she should have been, I kept going down West Griffin Creek Road, but I gave up and turned around. The road back up was easy at first. I used the tractor to pull one poor fellow out, but 50 yards later he got stuck again and this time my tractor wasn't enough to get him out. The road was so slippery that I fell down twice just walking to collect my chain. So I continued upward, the road getting steeper and more slippery. I drove partly in the ditch because the dirt surface wasn't icy and my big tractor tire grabbed the ground firmly. While the wheel in the ditch had solid traction, the wheel on the road surface would often slip. No problem: Tractors have separate lateral brakes. If the left wheel starts to spin, you just hit the left brake and all the power is transferred to the right wheel. Using this little trick, I chugged steadily upward.
Unfortunately, when cars get stuck in icy conditions, they tend to slide into the ditch, which meant that I couldn't follow the ditch all the way up to the top: I had to switch sides every 50 yards or so. After a number of successful switches, I was gaining confidence, which, of course, was the necessary precondition for things to go terribly wrong. Halfway through one switch, in the middle of the road, my tractor lost all traction. Not just forward traction, but every kind of traction. I started sliding downhill, a particularly distressing development because I was sideways, which doesn't afford much in the way of control.
Oddly, I felt no great alarm or panic I'm either too old or too stupid for that. I played with the steering wheel and the brakes, satisfying myself that they could accomplish nothing. Unfortunately, it was growing dark and I had no lights on the tractor. Fortunately, there were no cars coming up the road. The tractor picked up speed; I think I hit a top speed of 10 mph. I recall speeding past a couple of fellows trying to get their car out of the ditch. Acutely aware of the ridiculousness of my situation, I waved and called out "See ya later!"
After a good 70 yards the road became less steep, and I could feel twitches of traction. The tractor was drifting to the side of the road, which was good, because traction lay hidden beneath the uncompressed snow on the side. Twisting the wheel one way and the other, kicking at the brakes, I brought the tractor to a safe halt.
The fellows from the car I had passed on my way down came running, slipping, sliding, falling. "Are you alright?" At first I was uncertain as to how to answer; I hadn't suffered a scratch but they had each taken several nasty spills racing to my rescue. "Sure, I'm fine! How about you?"
And that is how I discovered Olympic Downhill Sideways Tractor Racing.
How bad was it? | MailTribune.com
Chris Crawford, Medford
The recent cold snap led me to discover a new winter sport. It all began when my wife, Kathy, driving home just a little too late on Friday afternoon, got stuck in the ice on West Griffin Creek Road. That particular area is in a cellphone dead spot, so she couldn't call me. Fortunately, our neighbor Kristen was right behind her in a four-wheel-drive car, so Kristen went ahead and called me when she got back into cellphone range.
I bundled up and hopped onto my trusty 1954 Ferguson tractor. It took me a good 15 minutes to reach Kathy's reported location. She was gone! Alas and alack, a friendly fellow had helped her chain up her car, and she made it out on her own. Rather than risk getting stuck again, she had headed back down to the valley to spend the night with a friend. By the time she got into cellphone range, I was on the tractor and out of cellphone contact.
Not finding Kathy where she should have been, I kept going down West Griffin Creek Road, but I gave up and turned around. The road back up was easy at first. I used the tractor to pull one poor fellow out, but 50 yards later he got stuck again and this time my tractor wasn't enough to get him out. The road was so slippery that I fell down twice just walking to collect my chain. So I continued upward, the road getting steeper and more slippery. I drove partly in the ditch because the dirt surface wasn't icy and my big tractor tire grabbed the ground firmly. While the wheel in the ditch had solid traction, the wheel on the road surface would often slip. No problem: Tractors have separate lateral brakes. If the left wheel starts to spin, you just hit the left brake and all the power is transferred to the right wheel. Using this little trick, I chugged steadily upward.
Unfortunately, when cars get stuck in icy conditions, they tend to slide into the ditch, which meant that I couldn't follow the ditch all the way up to the top: I had to switch sides every 50 yards or so. After a number of successful switches, I was gaining confidence, which, of course, was the necessary precondition for things to go terribly wrong. Halfway through one switch, in the middle of the road, my tractor lost all traction. Not just forward traction, but every kind of traction. I started sliding downhill, a particularly distressing development because I was sideways, which doesn't afford much in the way of control.
Oddly, I felt no great alarm or panic I'm either too old or too stupid for that. I played with the steering wheel and the brakes, satisfying myself that they could accomplish nothing. Unfortunately, it was growing dark and I had no lights on the tractor. Fortunately, there were no cars coming up the road. The tractor picked up speed; I think I hit a top speed of 10 mph. I recall speeding past a couple of fellows trying to get their car out of the ditch. Acutely aware of the ridiculousness of my situation, I waved and called out "See ya later!"
After a good 70 yards the road became less steep, and I could feel twitches of traction. The tractor was drifting to the side of the road, which was good, because traction lay hidden beneath the uncompressed snow on the side. Twisting the wheel one way and the other, kicking at the brakes, I brought the tractor to a safe halt.
The fellows from the car I had passed on my way down came running, slipping, sliding, falling. "Are you alright?" At first I was uncertain as to how to answer; I hadn't suffered a scratch but they had each taken several nasty spills racing to my rescue. "Sure, I'm fine! How about you?"
And that is how I discovered Olympic Downhill Sideways Tractor Racing.
