Like Riding a Bike

This morning me brother Phil and I towed a car which deigned not to start (how dare that contraption!) using my newer older van and a yellow tow rope. Sure, illegal. Damn that nonsense.

We drug it to our mechanic, about a mile away from the old barn. Humm-boy, we did a good job of it too, just like in the old days when me Pops and me Grandpa Joe and the rest of us did such with regularity. And impunity, not unlike this morning. We're devil may care, we Cosgriffs. 

I drove the lead car, Phil guided the tow. We kept that rope taut the whole way too. The trick to towing with a rope is that you let the trail vehicle carry most of the braking, holding back on the lead van just enough that the rope never goes slack. What you're trying to avoid are any herky-jerky movements which may dislodge the hook where the rope attaches to the cars.

You watchin', Joe? You watchin', Pops? We still got it. Like riding a Bike.

Lost Art

This morning, with the help of me brother Phil, we towed me new old van with me newer older van to the mechanic about a mile and a half away. We used a simple tow rope. We've done it before, and much more spectacularly. 

The trick is coordination. The lead car decides when to stop, when to proceed, and controls the timing. The towed car keeps the rope taut. For example, I drove the newer older van while Phil guided the new old van. While on 14th Street I purposely slowed us down to stay in between traffic lights so that we'd make the greens and avoid the reds; we wouldn't have to stop entirely any more than we had too. At the same time Phil would apply brakes to affect a drag on my 'pull' vehicle. We managed it with a minimum of jerking either van. Consequently, the tow was smooth.

We kept to the side so as not to impede traffic. Indeed, we use sparely travelled streets when we tow for that same reason. You should be considerate of others.

Granted, it doesn't always work well. Ask Zeke. But if you pay attention, cars can be safely towed with ropes. It's just a dying art. But we Cosgriffs do what we can to keep it in vogue.

A passive aggressive Cosgriff?

Grandpa Joe once had an old Packard that he really liked. He also had an older brother whom he was close to, and one day the car and the brother came together in what even Joe admitted was a funny story.

His older brother was Uncle Bill. Joe thought enough of him that he named his first son, me Pops, after him. Uncle Bill was as quiet and reflective as Joe was loud and abrasive. But if you told Uncle Bill something you'd better mean it, because he would do it.

One day someone's car had slid off into a ditch, and Joe and Bill went with Grandpa's Packard to try to pull it out. They hooked up to the car, and Bill got in the driver's seat of the Packard because Joe thought he was better at things like pulling vehicles out of ditches. Uncle Bill revved the Packard up slowly, and gently tried to get into gear several times, with no luck moving the stuck car. Joe become more impatient by the second, until he finally yelled, "Hell, rip the bumper off her!"

"I knew right after I said it I'd said it to the wrong guy," Grandpa admitted years later, retelling the tale with a laugh.

Uncle Bill's face drew into a huge grin. He raced that engine and dropped it into gear. The car leapt forward powerfully, as a 12 cylinder Packard should. And he ripped the bumper clean off.

As Joe said years later, "What could I say? I told him to do it."

He never did say exactly how they got the car out of the ditch though. But that really isn't the point of the story anyway, is it?

Three out of three ain't bad

I honestly don't know why it's illegal to tow a disabled vehicle with a tow rope. Yes, yes, yes, people will argue safety. But I think that that argument, while not entirely unfair, is nonetheless overblown. Hell, I towed cars for years with tow ropes and nothing bad ever happened. 

There's no doubt in my mind that it's a way for towing companies, a special interest, to get more money. Don't think, towers, that we haven't noticed all your 'contributions' to police societies proudly displayed on your office walls. Mandatory, legally obliged towing is a racket, and to hell with what anyone says. It's one of the micro reasons I'm politically conservative: another example of government and a special interest wrapping up in a tidy package with a pretty bow a good deal for each other which drives up the cost of a service and adds dough to government coffers (for these towers need to be licensed, wink wink). Talk about scratching each other's backs.

Rant over. Now I will talk about what I actually wanted to talk about.

If you haven't figured it out by now, we Cosgriffs towed a lot of cars and trucks in our time. We've towed them long distances, in some cases a couple hundred miles. If a vehicle broke down wherever, someone got a call and went on their way with a tow rope to fetch the marooned driver.

Once me Pops broke down in Kenton, Ohio, about an hour from Electric Eel as he was returning with a load of drain cleaning equipment. It's also about two hours from Detroit. He called my brother Phil, who dutifully went down to rescue him. But then Phil's car broke down, so I got a call.

And I did exactly what a good son should do. I went down into Ohio with my car and a tow rope and rescued them both.

So here we were with three vehicles, two being towed and one leading, one with a large round cable rack attached to its roof (I think it was Phil's Chevy Malibu), being towed around 125 miles up Interstate 75 into Detroit. We kept our blinkers on and never went faster than 35, and made it home safely.

Even I will admit though, it must have been a sight. 

Uncle John kills Grandpa Joe

Perhaps it's just one of me Uncle John's stories expanded beyond the normal apocalyptic standards of his tale telling. Perhaps it really happened as I will say. Perhaps it's full disclosure that I recognize that I do understand that safety is an issue with towing. Perhaps all of that. But I do know that towing with a tow rope can be hazardous.

The set of curves on Interstate 75 just south of Nine Mile Road in Ferndale, Michigan, is famous to Michiganders. After moving along at the breezy pace of 70 or even 55 miles per hour one suddenly has to slow down to negotiate two sharp turns, left and then right, right before you get to Detroit proper. It was at this juncture that Uncle John thought he had killed Grandpa Joe.

Zeke had broken down somewhere above this point driving one of the Joe Cosgriff Welding Machine Rentals flatbed trucks, while on his way home after a delivery. It was his bad luck that Grandpa Joe was the one to rescue him with a tow rope. Joe went out with a 1969 Chevy car to tow home a truck with a 14 foot bed. You know, standard procedure for us Cosgriffs, a lighter vehicle towing a heavier.

Well, Joe hooked up the truck to his car and off they went. All was fine until they reached the Nine Mile curve. Then, as Zeke saw it, Joe began trying to light a cigarette. In doing so, Joe couldn't find the lighter. So he took his eyes off the road, bent down to seek the lighter, an unignited johnny smoke dangling from his lips, and in so doing let the slack out of the tow rope.

You don't do that. You must keep the tow rope taut. All of us Detroit Cosgriffs, well experienced in the art of vehicle towing, know that. We also know the trailing vehicle has a much more difficult chore when it comes to stopping. The following vehicle requires the lead be alert to that fact.

But this was Joe. Anyone working with that man, Lord love him, needed to take on extra precaution for themselves.

So Joe lets the rope go slack for the sake of his Carlton. And Uncle John can't stop. Joe's Chevy drifts towards the shoulder. Zeke's truck drifts helplessly towards it as well, Uncle John pumping the brakes frantically, pointlessly. Joe's old car jumps slightly into the air on hitting the curb of the shoulder. Zeke's truck, heavier and therefore with greater kinetic energy, jumps the same curb only much higher. The expectant force drives the stake truck upwards. It lands squarely atop the old Chevy. Time stops.

I've killed him, me Uncle John thinks. I've killed my old man.

Years of seconds pass, Zeke considering the weight of what had happened. Eventually he raises up his head from the steering wheel where it rested. He must face the music. He must check on Joe.

Me Grandpa Joe meanwhile had already left his car, and was pacing in front of the Chevy smoking one cigarette after another, his nerves undoubtedly themselves frayed. Me Uncle John said that it was cartoonish. Joe was lighting one smoke after another and dragging it all in, the little red flame running up the entire length of each cigarette one draw at a time. Joe was okay. Zeke, well, it was a while longer returning to sanity.

Towing three cars at once

I honestly don't know why it's illegal to tow a disabled vehicle with a tow rope. Yes, yes, yes, people will argue safety. But I think that that argument's overblown. I believe it's a way for towing companies, a special interest, to get more money. And don't think, towers, that I haven't noticed all your 'contributions' to police societies. Mandatory, legally obliged towing is a racket, and to hell with what anyone says. It's one of the micro reasons I'm politically conservative: another example of government and a special interest wrapping up in a tidy package with a pretty bow a good deal for themselves. Talk about scratching each other's backs.

Rant over. Now I will talk about what I actually wanted to talk about.

If you haven't figured it out by now, we Cosgriffs towed a lot of cars and trucks in our time. We've towed them long distances, in some cases a couple hundred miles. If a vehicle broke down wherever, someone got a call and went on their way with a tow rope to fetch the marooned driver.

Once me Pops broke down in Kenton, Ohio, about an hour from Electric Eel as he was returning with a load of drain cleaning equipment. He called my brother Phil, who dutifully went down to rescue him. But then Phil's car broke down, so I got a call.

And I did exactly what a good son should do. I went down into Ohio with my car and a tow rope and rescued them both.

So here we were with three vehicles, one with a large round cable rack attached to its roof (I think it was Phil's Chevy Malibu), being towed around 125 miles up Interstate 75 into Detroit. We kept our blinkers on and never went faster than 35, and made it home safely.

Even I will admit it must have been a sight.