An illuminating conversation

If you read the Frontiersman and are kind enough to take a minute now and then to glance at my nonsense (thank you), you perhaps notice that most of the time I like to just write fun stuff.

Didn’t start out that way. My first few months were peppered with opinion pieces regarding politics, race, religion — you know, all those peaceful topics we all agree on. But I figured there’s already enough of that, so I decided to just stick with the easy reading material, for the most part. I recently read another article about how Asians are treated when applying for college and it made my blood boil. I wrote an article about it, then promptly saved it on my hard-drive and left it there.

But that doesn’t stop friends and family from calling me at least once a week and giving me suggestions for my next column on whatever got under their skin that day: “Ben, I was at the store today and got another cart with a sticky wheel! Why can’t they fix their dang carts! You should write an article about that;” “Ben, every time I go through the Palmer McDonald’s it takes forever and they never give me enough napkins. You need to write about that.”

Gosh, what wonderful suggestions for what would no doubt be truly exciting reading. Tell you what, how about you write a letter to the editor yourself?

But a dear friend of mine has brought up a topic — twice — in the past few months that, after personally experiencing myself a few times, really got me thinking about what’s with the people turning their trucks into mobile stadium lighting systems?

“Sprout” is a vertically challenged friend and former co-worker who originally hails from Gnome — oh, um, I mean Nome. I won’t mention her name (Kyla) in this article. When she first complained about all the bright truck lights always getting in her eyes, I figured it was because she’s no taller than the average vehicle headlight.

But driving home on Bogard Road a week or so ago, I noticed not once, but twice, that I had to hit the brakes and slow down because I was blinded by what I originally thought was the second-coming.

Turned out to be a Dodge Ram and a Chevy truck festooned with gazillion-candle-watt, nuclear-powered, retina-dissolving lights. Don’t get me wrong, I get it; safety and all that. Or, more accurately, your safety, because Lord knows I’m in serious trouble here trying to keep my car on the road while driving inside the Sun, all so that you can see better. Now we have those weird blue-purple lights that add to the show. So, I caught up with a guy (unlike Sprout, I won’t mention his real name. We’ll call him Honcho Man) I know who drives one of these rolling spotlights to ask him about his rig. Curiously, I noticed that it’s not just the over-the-top lighting that seems to define these rigs.

“Honcho Man, what’s with all these dang lights?” In case of moose. You never know when one might be getting ready to pop out of the trees right in front of you.

“True. But in 5 o’clock traffic on Bogard or the Palmer-Wasilla Highway?” Like I said, you never know.

“But what about all the other cars around you? Don’t you worry about blinding them?” Nope.

“Honcho Man, I see your truck sits several feet higher than stock. What’s the point?” Don’t wanna get high-centered when I’m four-wheeling.

“When is the last time you went four-wheeling Honcho Man?” Um. Well. I haven’t yet in this truck. But you know, in case I ever do I would want my truck to be tall.

“It’s so you can look cool, isn’t it? Be honest.” What’s yer point?

“Well, I’m just worried that after you blind them, they might end up hitting your truck and you sit so much taller …” So? They can get a truck, too!

“Well, yes, but the point is, um, you know what, never mind. So do these big tires help out, too?” Yep! I get better traction with ‘em ’cuz they’re so wide!

“Honcho Man, wide tires keep your truck on top of the snow and give you less pound-per-square-inch of traction. You want a tire that digs into the snow.” He stares at me with a confused look on his face. What the heck? Don’t you know anything? You know how snowshoe rabbits do so well in the winter? It’s the same thing!

“You ever been T-boned by a snowshoe hare, Honcho Man?” What’d you say?

“Nothing. Never mind. I’d explain the difference, physics and all, but it would probably bore you. But if you ever get the chance, try driving a rig with a skinnier tire with deep lugs and studs. You’d be surprised.” What the heck do I need studded tires for? This here is a four-wheel-drive! (He beams proudly and pats truck).

“I don’t understand, Honcho Man. How does that help while driving around town?” Boy, you’re not too bright are you? You get better traction and so you don’t need studs!

“Honcho Man, granted, four-wheel drive is great for getting moving from a stop or when you’re stuck. But once you’re moving it doesn’t make a lick of difference. It doesn’t mean a thing when it comes to stopping. In fact, this big rig has a lot more momentum so it’s actually harder to stop. Also, if you do lose control and you’re in four-wheel drive, it’s actually harder to recover a rig that’s in four-wheel-drive than a two-wheel drive.” (An even longer blank stare. He stops to spit tobacco juice on the ground, then looks back up at me.) Boy, you jes’ think you know everything, don’tcha, you newcomer city boy?

“Honcho Man, you live in the same neighborhood I do. You moved up here in ’87 from Washington.

And don’t you remember when I had to use my Astro van to pull your truck out of the ditch last winter?” No, and that never happened! And if it did, it was a fluke! But it didn’t! Well, anyway, four-wheel-drive is why guys like me can drive 70 mph during whiteout conditions on glare ice on the highway while you sissies in your commuter cars are poking along.

“Hey, wanna hear how many SUVs and trucks I saw buried in the median on the way into Anchorage today?” I think you can go home now.

So there you have it, my interview with Honcho Man. While I never revealed his name, I’m guessing you know him or have seen him or one of his countless family members bombing down Alaska roads. I’d tell you to wave at him, but you’re probably busy shielding your eyes from his lights and trying to stay out of his way as he flies by at crazy speeds on the snow and ice.

Ben Compton is a Palmer resident and publishes his column under the tagline “Compton’s Corner,” the same title used by his grandmother, Phyllis Compton, a longtime Frontiersman columnist.