Community and Frankie to the Rescue of Margaritaville!

As detailed below in an email by Fire Chief Phyllis Jackson, the training session last Thursday, 16 February, came to an abrupt halt for those Firefighters who stayed late to drive Engine No. 1 to top it off from the nearest hydrant, which just happens to belong to Athens-Clarke. I assumed the goal was Double Bridges Road, but her post suggests Belmont Road, perhaps just to test out an alternative hydrant. The truck died.

The engine still has 'North Oconee County' written on its lime-green doors (one reason Oconee gets credit in the Oglethorpe Echo for coming to fires; it is really Wolfskin in disguise!). Some of us call it 'Margaritaville' but I understand it is a sincere gift or loan or one-dollar lease of a good piece of equipment from Oconee County in appreciation for helping them cover the tricorner area around Belmont and Kennedy Roads. Anyway, it has been fairly reliable under the routine attention of Frankie. Her email follows:

FF and Friends:

Last night made me feel thankful, once again, for good neighbors, and appreciate just how much our fire department depends on the different talents and contributions of its members. Amongst them, it's Frankie -- Inventor and Mechanic Extraordinaire -- who keeps us going, wards off what would otherwise be a crisis, contributes considerably to my peace of mind.
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Frankie to the Rescue:

Training Meeting last night was going routinely, no drama…right up until the end. I’d had a hectic week of winding up the 2004 FEMA Grant (and oh yes, that detail of the day job), thinking, “In half an hour I’ll be headed home to my supper and then collapse in a warm bed. But NO! Minutes later, the Number One Truck — our pride and joy (okay, even if it IS lime green, it’s a Class A Pumper) — is disabled and lifeless, stranded along side the Wolfskin Road.

Driver John W. and Mike G. in the truck heard a loud noise coming up the hill (approaching the crossing with Belmont) and pulled over. Sounded like some big item fell off the truck. Hmmm…what had we left sit on the tailboard? Moments later antifreeze spewed forth and John was quick to see the engine temp gauge spike.

Those of us who know less about these mechanical events assumed the truck had blown a radiator hose. Once again, a LESSON: It’s not what you don’t know that does you in, it’s what you * think* you know, that you don’t know…

Oconee County firefighter Shane Halloran came along in his big truck with lots of lights, offering help, and to carry some folks back to the station. Moral support is so very welcome, when you’re stranded.

The engine cooled down. Frankie lifted the hood and announced the real problem, far more serious than a blown hose: “You people have stripped all the belts off my truck!” One belt in shreds, a couple others off but present, one missing altogether — no fan, no power steering, no air pressure and no air brakes (thus the truck will not move), no power brakes…you get the idea. Bob Dylan song lyrics ran through my head: “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Not tonight.

I mentally inventoried the value of tools and equipment on this truck. Got to get it back to the station or at least parked in somebody’s yard tonight. We could call Gabriel’s wrecker for a tow. Frankie gave me a dead silent stare. How could I unleash such an insult! “MY TRUCK is going home …tonight! Have I ever not done right by MY TRUCK?”

With the bright work lights and tool kit from his truck, a flashlight, and a mechanically inventive mind, Frankie took inventory of parts and possibilities, measured distances, tried a succession of belt arrangements. He was determined to jerry rig enough belts to get the air pressure back up and cool the engine. Just the basics. Power brakes would be a plus, given the full load of water. He would take it home, with the power steering out. Not me! I have driven fireknockers with a full load (980 gal x 8 lb/gal ) that never had power steering in the first place. It’s a white knuckle trip. But a beast like this which is intended to have power steering and then loses it — that’s hugely another matter.

Frankie and Ed loosened nuts on bolts and banged on things. I worried about some small but key part falling to oblivion the tall grass beneath the engine. Yes, I would secretly watch for falling parts. The big water pumped loosened. Frankie directed Ed to hop in the cab and use the starter to keep turning the engine as Frankie worked a belt onto the pulley each time the pulley moved. I had the phone book out of my truck, secretly calling on the cell some folks along the route where we might park it ... you know, just in case. But how could I have doubted Frankie? The King of Invention and Rigging on the Fly did indeed take HIS TRUCK home. And this morning he is down at the station getting HIS TRUCK repaired and back in service. Hats off and a high five to you Frankie.

Peace in Wolfskin,

Phyllis

In one response, Ed Frey writes:

Amen. Frankie is "THE MAN!"

And as Phyllis writes, it was a community response that made it all possible. So tempting to Figherfighters and passers-by to just leave it until the morning. But what followed was at least a 2.5 hr rescue, judging from radio traffic at about 11:30 PM when I overheard Phyllis tell Oglethorpe 911 that Engine No. 1 was out of service.

A pain in the butt for everyone unlucky to be involved. But better it happened at 9 PM after training than on the way to a house fire. That is one of the reasons we do many things over and over at successive training meetings, to try to discover beforehand what is not going to work on the next fire call.