I was the late man on Saturday morning run of paper at the leader post. Someone had to stay after everyone else went home till the end of the press run, and it was my turn that Saturday morning in late January. The exact date escapes me. Shortly after 4 am, the press called me and informed me the run was over, and I could go home, so it was 417 am when I made my way to the 12th avenue parking lot entrance. It was -37 with an 80 km/h wind blowing straight out of the northwest, exacting a windchill of -54 degrees Fahrenheit.In celcius I have no idea. I stood in the porch and looked out at my 96 Corolla, sitting in the howling wind, looking very lonely, being the only vehicle in the entire lot. I thought to myself, the battery is premium, it is a Toyota, and it is plugged in, but still at best, in those conditions, I figured I had a 50/50 chance at best it would start.
Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so out I go, and when I hit that wind, I actually experienced a twilight zone moment. Because instead of walking through the double doors of the 12th avenue entrance, I was certain I had instead passed through a space portal that had transported me to another, much colder corner of the known universe. It hurt to breathe, and the clouds were frozen. I could actually hear them striking the antennas on the roof, made a hissing sound and the wind pierced like a knife as I stumbled head down over to my poor frozen car. In typical Toyota fashion, it started, barely, but did, and I retreated to the porch for 20 minutes to let it warm up. I ventured out into the howling wasteland once again, hopped in and on flintstone tires, square, that is, I ventured onto the ring road for the 22-mile drive home to craven in the Qu’Appelle valley.
About halfway home on number 11 highway, the precariousness of my situation began to set in. I was the only vehicle of any kind to be on the road in those conditions at that time of the morning. I realized that if that car quit on me, walking for help was not an option, and even with the very best emergency equipment, realistically, how long would you last in those temperatures. So it was with more than a sense of impending doom as I continued on that lonely drive home. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I pulled into the driveway. That old Corolla had conducted my poor, sorry, mortal rear end out of danger once again. I poured myself a stiff rum and toasted my adventure before going to bed.
I never repeated that performance again. Ever.
-Pete foster
