Keeping a Young Family Warm Through the Long Minnesota Winters

Rumbling through the woods, he had a log on the hook. This homemade contraption called a Bug was helping to keep the family warm. It's said that firewood heats the soul three times. Once when you cut the tree, again when you split and stack the firewood, and a final time when you burn the wood for heat.

Times were tough, the price of heating oil had skyrocketed out of sight. In an effort to reduce the annual cost of heating their simple mobile home, extreme measures would be taken. There was a 10' square entry addition attached to the front door of the trailer. An air lock of sorts, allowing entry to the home without direct exposure to the elements. A logical location for a source of additional heat, a wood burning stove.

Construction of a plate iron fire box began. Taking advantage of shop space at work, he stayed late into the evening, welding and cutting. With a barrel stove door on the front, it was crude but solid. Almost too heavy to handle. Using scrap tin, a plenum was added and insulation coated the outer surface.

Coming off the side of this monster, reminiscent of the old coal burners of the last century, was a duct that entered the mobile home through a 12" square hole cut through the side wall. With a fan for circulation, the heat traveled throughout the home and provided warmth, the kind that saturates the body right to the bones.

The next requirement was wood to feed the ravenous appetite of this beast. For the worldly sum of $10 the remains of a truck was purchased. Dating back to the 40's this thing, for lack of better words, amounted to a shortened frame with very large wheels and tires. Complete with rear axle, transmission, and steering wheel.

Nothing else was included, a donor vehicle was needed to supply the engine and another transmission.

As a teenager he received his drivers license later then most. Financial concerns prevented him from obtaining that which is most precious to all males at the age of 16. It was understood that upon saving enough money to cover insurance, he would be allowed to make that final step toward adulthood.

Working a paper route since the age of 13, walking or bicycling a distance of 5 miles everyday, seven days a week. That route supplied income throughout high school. Remaining in the family, the route continued on for years, providing income for a series of siblings. Finally, in his senior year, at 17-1/2 years of age he received his license. Almost an anti-climax, as he had been driving since age 11. Under the watchful eye of his father on back roads, and legally since 15 with the often renewed learners permit.

The old family car became his wheels to freedom, a very rusty and unreliable 1951 Chevrolet. Pea soup green, a 4-door badly worn auto with holes large enough to loose your shoes through the floor boards. Driving in the spring, during periods of rain required the wearing of rubber boots, as more water came up through the floor then was falling from the sky.

Even with the average of one or two flat tire per week, the car served it's purpose. Giving a maturing teenager the feeling of freedom. For the next few months before graduation he could come and go as he pleased. For the summer the car was parked in the field, as after graduation a job on the Great Lakes aboard an iron ore carriers was taken to earn money for college. Upon returning in the fall, it was discovered the clutch had rusted to the flywheel, and the car never again saw the open highway. There it sat, abandoned in the field for the next ten years.

Now it was getting another chance to provide useful assistance during a time of hardship. The car was towed home. After a matter of a few days it was alive and kicking again. His mechanical ability had improved over time, and the frozen clutch was now no big deal.

Not looking to save the decomposed body of the car, the engine and transmission were removed to be transplanted into the ungainly frame of the Bug. After a week of late night work, the Bug came to life. It was a true beast, loud and ungainly, it had pure brute strength. Pull, it sure did. Stop, it sure didn't. No brakes, didn't care, this beast was for making it's way through the woods, towing fallen trees hooked to the heavy duty A frame mounted on the rear of the Bug. Nothing but a logging chain that would be hooked around the butt of the tree. As you pulled away the tree butt would elevate off the ground, and hopefully not catch on anything while you towed it out of the woods.

A very crude but effective operation. For more then a year this beast was used to pull trees. Lumbering slowly through the woods, selective cutting maintained the general appearance of the property, only removing low quality aspen and dead birch trees. A set of old pieced together truck chains insured good traction.

Quality construction wasn't an option when building this home made skidder of sorts. Parts were scrounged from where ever they could be found. Make do was the nature of the game. Across the open truck frame, was an old bus seat, no floor boards, no roll cage, just an open rig with just the slightest resemblance to a tractor.

Lacking experience, the welding wasn't of the highest quality. A factor that would become a life saving issue. Finally the inevitable happened, the large aspen tree was in tow, the butt end of the tree hooked a stump. In a split second the front wheels of the Bug came off the ground. As has caused may farm related accidents and deaths, the front end continued skyward. With the tree stuck, the power of the massive tires was more then enough to bring the front end off the ground. With the leverage of the A frame at the rear, it was as if a giant hand was grasping the chain and pulling the vehicle to a near vertical position. Try as he might, he was unable to reach the clutch pedal to release the power of the engine from the drive wheels.

Just as it looked hopeless, at the point where the powerful tractor like device was about to flip over backwards, a momentary crack. The drive shaft that had been cobbled together from two different parts had twisted off. The weld let loose, and the machine fell back to earth with all four wheels landing in correct orientation.

Having received the scare of his life, the Bug saw no further service. It was replaced shortly with another home made mechanical device, a small yard tractor built from the remains of an old Toyota. Pulling a small trailer behind it, the firewood from that point on was sawed into stove lengths where the tree was dropped. Then the short pieces were loaded into the trailer and brought to the front of the Ford pickup parked in the driveway. Yet another home made device, the snow plow hydraulics could be coupled to the log splitter. All built from things found, it was what you had to do to get by in hard times. It was the way it was in the North Woods