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On December 3, 2024, I worked all day in my duties as a Lake County Commissioner. I, and several other commissioners attended a meeting in the Lake County Courtroom looking at the tables and discussing what to do about tables used in court where the plaintiff and defendant both sit. The current tables are mismatched and lack a privacy shield and new tables with the necessary geegaws for computer screens and microphones plus a privacy shield are turning up to be about $10,000 EACH (!). I suggested duct tape and a sheet of ¼ inch plywood bolted across the front table legs and and absolutely nobody agreed with me. Something about “making the courtroom look not ‘hodgepodge’ ” was politely suggested. I’m sticking to my guns on this one - maybe….
Then, off we went to a 2.5 hour action meeting where we were given a few presentations and had to take action on matters concerning the county. We then moved buildings after another hour and had our Truth in Taxation hearing where we commissioners are present as the public asks questions about what we spent the money on. They want the truth, and we give it to ‘em. In this case “ ‘em” was just one guy asking questions that I swear ranged from the birds and the bees to price of rice in China. It was a broad range of topics. That went on for about 2.5 more hours. Having arrived in Two Harbors at 9:30 a.m. and now wrapping up at 8:30 p.m., I was more than ready to go home.
In only 86 miles of road, I would be with my wife, our dog, our (her) cats, and home. Only 90 minutes away through rocks, sticks and moose legs was where I wanted to be. I said my goodbyes to the kind and also tired people of the county seat and they told me to have a safe trip because the wind was really ripping and it was starting to snow. Out in the parking lot in 18 degrees and falling, I decided to just put my winter jacket over my blazer thinking the extra layer of insulation might be good if I “put it in the woods” out in the dark. I started my cold car and north, I went.
As I drove Hwy. 2 northbound, it was beginning to snow like crazy. Fifteen miles out of town. Conditions required low beams only and on the other side of the bright snowflakes attacking my view, it was blacker than the ace of spades. I slowed down to a comfortable speed of 40 mph (and sometimes 30 mph) and listened to a podcast playing through my dashboard. That bluetooth truly is a wonderful feature for traveling. The effective lights shined out about 6070 feet, enough that would allow me to see moose tracks and legs. I did NOT want to run into a moose because it would destroy my car and maybe me. Yes - I’m more concerned about me than I am the moose. Go ahead and call me selfish.
So, plow through the night I did with snow accumulating to about four inches just south of White Pines Rec Area and on the Hwy. 15 cut off. I turn north onto the last stretch of Hwy. 2 and drive through the tight, whitepine and maple lined section of the road. Visibility is coming and going and there is no traffic on the road at the moment. To increase my odds of having a moose avoidance, I straddle the yellow line down the highway. I met cars earlier and could easily see them coming in the lit up the night with the falling snow.
I’m now driving and driving and driving. I can’t see any land marks of any kind and the low beams are not lighting up the very few signs along the way. I crossed train tracks, passed Greenwood lake and the Sand River somewhere out in the ether and there was a tall cell tower with a big red light that I could not see somewhere on my left. At this point, I realize that I have NO CLUE as to where I am on Hwy 2. My next thought is that “the stop sign has to be coming up SOON”. Just then, a gargantuan puff of snow blew down out of the trees from the west making a complete whiteout. One second later in now five inches of fresh, unplowed snow... THERE IT WAS!”
I saw the sign from where I was supposed to be at a full stop. My first instinct was to lock up the wheels because in about 66 feet, I am going to be slamming head first into a berm of dirt with a sign that points “Ely 18 Miles left and Isabella 17 Miles right”. Deciding to fight to the very end, I cranked the steering wheel to the left to see if I could pull off a 90 degree turn at 40 mph. I could not. The Equinox slid in the snow dutifully to the left like a curling stone on ice. I began a turn but without giant curling brooms slapping a trail through the 5” of snow ahead of me, I overshot the X. I am now traveling sideways, unable to override my death grip on the brake and steering wheel as the heavy metal posts that hold up two mail boxes snap like twigs on the northside of the road with my lights pointing frantically to the west. Nothing but black ether to my right and I’m out of control with nary a bad word uttered in the scope of my fast coming fate with uncertain outcome. Crap. This is probably gonna hurt, Snapping mailboxes and pounding sounds with vibrations make up the closest sound to a rocket ship on reentry to the atmosphere that I’ll ever experience. My passenger side rear wheel leaves the highway and then my front wheel follows. I am on a slide at a 45 degree angle down the side of a deep ditch when Fate says. “You know? I think we need to roll this car with the commissioner in it. Let’s try it!” All I could see was the guy named “Mayhem” smiling at me from the Allstate commercials as I watched my headlights rotate in a full, (and rather violent) 360 degree circle. As I began my surreal roll, everything in the car rolled as well. Suddenly, a LOUDhurt- my-ears-just-shot-a-partridge POW went off in my car. I had a bag of 12 gauge shells, (7.5 shot, low base) and I was shocked because I thought one went off. My only thought while rolling was “HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE!!!” I came to a crashing halt, wheels down, the cabin full of gunsmoke and all the weak interior lights turned on. In the din of the smoky light, I frantically patted myself down to see if I was hit by shrapnel from a sideways exploding shell. Nothing. No blood, no pain. Definitely a little bit of shock, but I was fine. It was then I realized air bags use essentially 12 gauge blanks which rapidly inflate on the start of a roll. It blew out the side airbags keeping me from smashing my head into the door glass. Very well designed car in my opinion.
I couldn’t move because my seatbelt really locked me down. My phone was on the floor with a ton of good stuff and garbage, and good stuff that was now garbage. I managed to unbuckle and my door thankfully opened easily. I stood outside in the 10 degrees in my suit, jacket with hat and glasses on like nothing happened. On the car, the roof was pushed down about 5 inches and I had very lightly bumped my head. I took a physical assessment, and nothing hurt at all. I anticipated that something would at least hurt a little. Don’t get me wrong - not hurting when standing next to your smashed, ditched car in the pitch black in roaring wind, 18 miles from anywhere was the very best outcome at the moment.
I tried my phone that I found at my feet in the cab. It worked with a spotty signal and I dialed 911 with my hands shaking a bit but not from the cold. I think I may have been a little rattled. My first thought when they answered “911 - what’s your emergency?” was that I was fine, and it really was not an emergency because I was not injured. I told them who I was and I just rolled my car and they calmly asked a bunch of questions. I didn’t want an ambulance dispatched for non-injured me when I’m walking around in the snow in the ditch getting my dress shoes wet, not to mention my socks. Dispatch said they alerted the county deputy and state trooper. I thanked him and dialed my wife.
Annette answered and I said “I have a bit of a problem. I rolled the car. I’m OK, but the car - not so much.” Annette responded in a more acerbic tone, “You mean you got stuck again like you did in March” referring to my planting the exact same car on the other end of the exact same section of road in another friggin’ blizzard. In that event, the safety crap of the car felt it knew better than me and took over, resulting in me narrowly missing the Hwy. 2 sign with the back end of the Equinox. I can only now view it as crash practice. This year, I finally I nailed it! And I stuck the landing!
When I explained to Annette that I rolled the car in a 360 degree circle into a ditch, landing on my wheels, I’ll be honest….I can’t remember what she said. It really doesn’t matter at this point as to date, she has taken ample opportunities to remind me of the event as have all my friends, the other county commissioners, MN state politicians Hauschild and Skraba, the hair stylists Nella and Cindy at Studio A Hair, and God knows who else into the very distant future. Some colorful nicknames that seem to be gaining traction include Crash Bandit, Rollover Joe, and the ever-popular Rainman in the Busmans’ Lounge of the Ely School District. Sigh… To prevent the spread of rumors of my demise, I immediately texted the Lake County board chair, Commissioner Rich Sve with details. Then, next on my list was Tim Leeson, the transportation director of Ely Public School to tell him I’m going to be missing my morning run because I figured something on me must be hurting tomorrow. I’m 64, stuff is starting to hurt. Tim wrote back and told me “no worries”, and graciously as ever, asked if I needed help, and said to let him know whatever I might need. Then he turned to Lahto (you know - Ely bus driver for 46 continuous years, retired Ely police chief, new Ely city councilman, and my second cousin) and said, “You’re never gonna believe what happened to Rainman. He just rolled his car on Number 1!” The reason Tim told Lahto about me was because they were both in Two Harbors at a school hockey game and Lahto drove the bus with the team. (Greeaaaaatttt….. Rainman will definitely be hearing about this for several years to come.)
By now, Christian, the pleasant Lake County Deputy from our area arrived. I talked with him while we waited for the State Trooper because this happened on a state highway. Christian warned me that “tomorrow is going to be a painful day - everything’s gonna hurt” After a while, Christian invited me to sit in the back of the squad in the cage to keep warm. A friendly trooper showed up and told me he followed my tracks all the way and I was “doing just fine”. Once through with paperwork, I went back in the cage and sat there for over an hour. Those guys picked up the mailboxes and mail and I roasted in the back of the squad while we waited for the wrecker that I also called earlier.
After over two hours, the wrecker had shown up and a state snow plow slowly pushed through the chaos. Then, a line of cars arrived at the infamous stop sign along with a school bus on Hwy 2 getting ready to turn to Ely but having to wait for my chaos. My phone lit up with Tim Leeson saying he’s right in front of me and he can take me home. I tell him to tell the deputy so I can get out of the cage. Christian lets me out and I get in with Tim and his wife Jesse in their warm and very roomy vehicle. It’s so late that I didn’t want Annette to drive into town to get me so I booked a room at Canoe On Inn and stayed there. I recommend that place. My room was very clean, the bathroom newly remodeled, there were welcoming chocolates and they even provide much appreciated boot dryers that I stuck my soaking wet shoes on for the night. They were warm and dry in the morning.
I missed my bus route the next morning as planned. I did, however, make my 9 a.m. meeting with the hospital and another 11 a.m. meeting after that. Absolutely nothing on me hurt…even to this day. It was during the hospital meeting that I discovered that I did end up ripping the back of the lining out of my sportcoat most likely when I was upside down and suddenly returning to a resting state. Oh well.
I am extremely thankful for my outcome and all the great people who helped me along the way. It is truly amazing. Somebody was really watching out for me, I figure. And - wear your seatbelt.
