I think one of the secrets of life must be to keep learning new things, no matter how great or how small. Some will learn how to build a new and better space rocket, while I have a more modest goal: to learn how to confidently pilot a four-wheeler.

A lot of communities in rural Alaska use four-wheelers; in the colder areas the residents might use snow machines in winter, and four-wheelers in summer. Craig is not one of these communities; the roads are paved and everybody drives cars. When I learned that I would be coming to Aniak to teach fifth grade as a long-term substitute, the first thing I thought of is how I would get around town.

Of course, I can walk to school in about five minutes, and the district office is only a little bit beyond that. However, the one and only coffee shop is all the way on the other side of the airport, and that just will not do.  

As a farm kid I learned to drive some interesting machines. I remember one shining moment, when my father watched me back his cantankerous old pickup truck into the driveway and said, “Why, Ev, you’re a truck skinner.” Years later, my husband and I worked for a few summers at a tree nursery in Anchorage. One day about five guys were standing around the boss’s new tractor, trying to figure out how to start the fool thing. I noticed that it had the same set up as the one my family had—starter button on the floor—so I confidently climbed aboard and fired her up. While at the nursery I also learned to drive a Bobcat with confidence, but I never did get the hang of that stupid pull-start weed trimmer.

Anyway. The people of Aniak handle their four wheelers and their snow machines with a practiced ease that I would like to emulate. My landlord has rented me a four wheeler for a reasonable rate and given me a basic tutorial. Now, I just need to practice. And I say, whyever not? I’ll bundle up nice and warm, put on my bright orange safety vest, and hit the open road at a modest rate of speed.