Our old oil supplier is no longer providing this service, so I warned the new guy that the driveway, though plowed, can be tricky for larger rigs. He figured that since the old driver could manage it, he would too.
As he left, I went into the house to secure the beasties. I looked out the window a minute or so later, and didn't see the truck. Gee, he got out already, good deal.
Went back to work inside.
An hour later the dogs start going apeshit. Because the tow truck had arrived. The special pull out an oil truck with 1500 gallons of fuel in the tank before it tips over in my pasture tow truck.
Poor guy had been starting his second attempt up the hill when I looked out, just as he was blocked from view by the barn.
The tow vehicle had to be secured first. That's where the lone hemlock comes in.
The cherry tree at the curve can never come down; it provides the anchor for the redirect. This is all the same as our mountain rescue rigging, except winch instead of manpower for hauling, no real use of mechanical advantage systems, and if the steel cable snaps, it doesn't just drop its load, it whips around and removes the heads of every person in range. Also, the tow operator had a lot more faith in the power of gravity for progress capture than I did. I figure gravity is what got him in that spot in the first place.
If a vehicle is pickup-sized or smaller, I can generally get it out with our manual come-alongs and tow straps.
This was the second oil truck the pasture has bagged in five winters, and here's the thing -- it always takes at least two tow trucks, with winches and anchoring to trees, to get one large truck out.
It's all about the angles, man.
Everyone stayed cheerful about it. No gateposts harmed in this production.
The boss needs to buy some chains for the truck.