March 1, 2006

• Tire Chains

  For whatever reason, I was thinking about tire chains. Specifically, the very first time I ever had to put tire chains on my car’s tires. This story does not illustrate anything much, and it probably won’t be very exciting since it’s completely unembellished.

  I was driving from Seattle, WA to Berekeley, CA, straight down interstate 5 to Sacramento and then west on 80. I was driving with my friend Brad, who I’d really like to hear from one of these days. Before we left, I had gotten some tire chains from the thrift store, which is probably not the best place to buy tire chains, but then again I didn’t think I’d actually end up using them.

  As I-5 nears the southern Oregon border, it passes through a town called Ashland, which is famed for its liberal outlook, its school, its proximity to the Pacific Crest Trail, but most notably for its Shakespeare festival. Ashland has a copy of the Globe theatre right in the middle of downtown, and each summer throngs of tourists come to experience the Bard in this place. I suppose it’s less hassle than going to Stratford-On-Avon. Ashland also has some nice hot springs, and a guy I know went there to study Zen Buddhism with a famous teacher who lives there.

  But, for the purposes of my story, Ashland is the last town along I-5 before you start up to Siskyou Summit pass, and by the time we got there it was a) 11:59pm, b) 15 degrees fahrenheit, c) snowing (heavily) (really heavily), and d) backed up through Ashland. Trucks were pulled over by the highway, putting on tire chains. Cops were directing us into the left lane. We’d inch forward for a while, then stop for a long while. The trucks were being diverted. They took an exit, and we could see them being directed up a winding road, presumably a back road over the mountains.

  Naturally, it was time to put on the tire chains.

  They were the wire kind, with plastic sleeves on the parts that would come in contact with the road. We threaded them on the tires… Taking off our gloves to manipulate these things was like dunking our hands in ice water. I knelt to reach around to the back, and my knees got wet and felt as though they had been chopped off. This seemed to take a year, but in fact only took maybe three minutes.

  The cops were holding the cars in groups, sending them off when they’d gotten the all-clear count from the summit. We would be third in line in our group.

  We pulled out to cross the summit, and as soon as the road gained incline, the non-chained sedan in front of us started fishtailing. He slowed and pulled to the right lane, and we passed. Same for the first car in line. Now we were in the lead, and I was relishing the whole thing. It wasn’t all that windy, which was a big problem in the van, so the only real threats were traction an incline. Staying slow meant it all worked just fine. Brad and I exchanged happy looks…

  See, the snow was so heavy that there were no visible tracks from the previous set of cars. They had only passed through here about 10 minutes ago, and yet their passage was unremarked by the snow. It was like being a skiier on virgin powder. There’s something in the aesthetic of a white, untrammeled surface of powder that brings delight.

  Of course, it was like skiing in more ways than one. The road winds rather steeply uphill, and keeping control was sometimes, shall we say, challenging, but mostly not an issue at the 25mph were were driving.

  Thick globs of snow were falling. Snow that had already formed snowballs on the way down. It would land on the windshield with a light whooshing thud before being wiped away by the wipers. It was like being inside a malfunctioning shaving cream factory.

  Outside the van’s headlights was complete inky blackness. We could see the other cars behind us, weaving a little now and then. None ever passed us, until we got over the summit.

  At the summit was a very cold-looking cop with a walkie-talkie counting cars. By the side of the road were semi trucks that had made it to the top, but were unable to go down the other side. Victims of circumstance. I could see some of them watching TV inside the cab.

  The descent down the west side was more of the same, though not so thick with falling snow. The main snowfall was on the east; the west was more icy.

  We got to the bottom, took off the chains, looked at each other and said: “Coffee.” We found a Denny’s that was completely packed at 1:30am.

  Brad would go on to drive the rest of the trip to Oakland while I slept in the back, and we got there that day.

  And I’m thinking about all this because I’m about to buy another one of those vans, much like we drove over the mountain pass.

  • 11:15 pm
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