Towing The Line With The Guys Who Rescue Stranded Motorists
Some people think he’s a knight in a Cenex cap.
Others treat him as if he created the mess he’s rescuing someone from.
Whatever their opinion of tow-truck driver George Brown, people are seeing a lot more of him and his ilk these days. Last weekend, snow and rain slickened roads - and many folks who tried jousting with wet streets ended up stuck.
Friday was a busy day for Divine’s Valley Towing at Mission and Pines. By Saturday, warmer weather made for fewer accidents, but some were nonetheless doozies. “One (car) this morning was stuck down a 30-foot embankment,” Brown said. “For two and a half hours, I was winching this thing out.”
Brown was waiting for his next call. Fortunately for him, the Valley Divine’s is pretty snazzy for a tow place. It even has an espresso stand.
Brown typically works a 12-hour shift. It’s usually completely bonkers or a total snooze.
“The day can get kinda long, that’s for sure,” the 29-year-old said through his closely-cropped beard.
A call came in and Brown hopped into his Chevy T95 and radioed in his destination.
An unintelligible warble answered over the radio static, sounding an awful lot like the adults in the Peanuts TV cartoon specials.
“I’m used to it,” Brown said. “I was in the Army for eight years.” The short hair should have been a giveaway.
Then he hit the freeway. That jogged some memories. Brown said whenever he has to tow or jump a car that’s stranded on the freeway shoulder, he’s treated like Rodney Dangerfield in a B movie.
“The thing that makes me the maddest is when people aim for the flashing lights or the guy in the orange vest. They flip you off and honk, but boy if it was them….”
People are just in too much of a hurry. Brown sees it all the time. In fact, a driver rear-ended his tow truck the day before.
He turned onto an exit, then looked around for an Oldsmobile. Tow drivers get pretty good at recognizing all makes of cars.
“When you get the info, it’s pretty easy,” he said. “But some people don’t even know what kind of car they drive.” (If you don’t know yours, you might want to write it down and put in the glove compartment, right next to that TAKE MEDICATION reminder.)
Seeing the beige Cutlass, Brown stops. Twentysomething Heather Larson was standing outside, bundled in a ski jacket.
“How ya doing?” Brown asked.
“Terrible.” At least she was honest. “This happened at 5:30 this morning on my way to work.”
Her car just conked out at an intersection. Brown couldn’t fault her for that - the same thing has happened to his rig before. There probably aren’t too many things more embarrassing than being a tow-truck driver in need of a tow. Larson jumped into a white car with some friends and drove off.
Brown slid the red cradle bar underneath the ailing Olds, cinched it tight and headed off to rendezvous with Larson at her house.
He tried to spot that white car they drove off in. “Now they were in a Taurus or a Tempo or a Cougar or ….” Then he saw it. “No, a T-Bird.”
Hey, nobody’s perfect.
After dropping off the Olds, the tow truck was off. The voice of Charlie Brown’s school teacher came over the CB again. It was a call to go to Broadway and Felts - no, scratch that. Just come on home.
All in all, not a bad run. And proof that even a knight in oil-stained armor can get some respect. Larson sure had no complaints. “Yeah, I’m really happy to see him,” she had said. “And glad I have AAA.”
, DataTimes