Driving a Wrecker: Fun with Radios · 3:38am Dec 12th, 2017
We're gonna go way back for this one—almost twenty years.
Damn, I'm old. 
Anyways, back about 20 years ago, I drove wrecker.
This was back in the days of Netscape and digital cameras costing about a zillion dollars, so sadly I don't have very many pictures, and the few that I do are scans of actual photographs. Like this one, which is the truck I normally drove, #15.
I've got a lot of stories about that job, and it's something I haven't talked about too much.
As is my wont, I'm going to kind of arrange things in different subjects, and for this one we're going to talk about communications.
Each of the trucks had a two-way radio, and they were on their own channel—the dispatch office actually had a broadcast antenna, and we had a license (well, I assume that they did; that wasn't my bailiwick).
We also had alpha-numeric pagers, because the one bad thing about broadcasting on a radio frequency is that any fool with a few dollars and a scanner can listen in to your broadcasts, and if they happen to be a competing towing company, they can jump your calls. So we'd get addresses and other specifics by pager, but we'd give all the other information to the dispatcher.
We'd also transmit credit card numbers over the air, which in hindsight wasn't a very secure arrangement, especially since we were also giving customer names, billing addresses, and essentially everything that some fool with a scanner would need to commit credit card fraud or identity theft.
The funny thing is that never occurred to me until just now.
Anyway, for information like VINs (Vehicle Identification Numebers) and license plates, we'd use a word-alphabet (there's probably a proper name for that, but I can't be bothered to look it up). I tended to use the military one, since my brother is a pilot and that's the one I knew—Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, etc.
We did a lot of work for the police—we were the company that had city and county contracts—so a lot of the drivers were familiar with the one the police used, which was a little different: Apple, Baker, Charlie, David, Edward, Frank . . . what really matters is that the words are clear, and so there's no ambiguity in what letter you're meaning to say.
After I got trained, I wound up working night shifts, and I'd generally work with the same dispatcher, Drew,* all the time. He was really cool, and since night shifts were sometimes boring (and other times really, really exciting), we'd play around on the radio a lot. He was also pretty smart, and had a good sense of humor.
So one night, I decided that I was going to change things up a bit. Instead of using the normal alphabets, I'd come up with new ones.
Things went well on my first call.
“What's the license plate number?”
“Ah, it's Cod, Trout, Flounder 1354.”
“10-4.”
And on the second.
“I've got Dodge, Yugo, Infinity 1265.”
On the third call, I ran into a problem.
“It's Moose, Giraffe, umm . . . something that starts with Q 8956.”
_______________________________________
*Not his real name.
I should mention ten-codes here. It was something that was used on the radio as shorthand . . . a few of them gained widespread knowledge, like 10-4, but there were dozens of them. We'd use about a dozen maybe—“what's your 20 [location]” was a popular one, and there were ones for 'I'm on the scene,' or 'I'm on my way back to the shop.' (10-23 and 10-24, respectively)
We also called by wrecker number, rather than name. Looking back on it, that was kind of an odd thing to do; on the other hand, the owner was one of those kinds of guys who you knew wanted to be in the military and so he arranged things in a paramilitary sort of way whenever he could.
When you drove south on 131 towards Schoolcraft, you'd be passing by a lot of farmland before you finally got to town. And it's worth mentioning that north of Schoolcraft, 131 was a limited-access highway, but there were traffic lights in Schoolcraft, and lots of warnings about them. [Some of y'all might remember Silver Glow flying that section of road on occasion.] That's something about Michigan that might not be the case in all states—limited access highways end. In fact, the only other state that has more interstate highways ending in it is Florida (for those of you keeping count, I-94, I-75, and I-69 all end in Michigan; both ends of I-96 are also in Michigan [which makes it not really an interstate highway, but I digress]).
So besides the warning signs and the traffic lights, one of the most obvious landmarks as you were approaching Schoolcraft from the north was the gas station. It was a pretty fancy gas station, too; it had automatic doors and a big glass wall (that wasn't so common back 20 years ago).
I was on my way to pick up a car at the gas station and it was the middle of the night and I was bored, and Drew called me.
“Radio 15, what's your 20?”
“15, Radio; I have the target in sight and am almost in torpedo range.”
It only took him a second to answer.
“10-4, let me know as soon as you've launched.”
I normally drove wrecker #15. That was my favorite truck, once I'd gotten used to it. It was also one of the few that the rookies were allowed to drive. The story was that somebody had crashed #23 right before it was supposed to be in a parade, and ever since then, the owner hadn't let just anybody drive certain trucks. Which was sometimes a problem; at shift changes, drivers could be stranded without a truck.
Those of us who had particular trucks that we were always in got used to our numbers being called, and we'd automatically perk our ears when we heard that number.
Now, since I worked nights sometimes I was really tired. We were supposed to go around looking for impounds in the various lots our company served when we weren't doing anything else, and I did that sometimes, but to be honest I didn't particularly like impounding people's cars at apartment complexes most of the time, so I rarely did that. And most nights we were actually pretty busy anyways.
When I had some downtime, though, I liked to hide behind a Buick dealership on Stadium Drive and catch a nap. I had to hide, because sometimes the owner would be patrolling in the middle of the night.
One night, I was in truck #22, instead of my usual #15, hiding behind the dealership and fast asleep in the cab.
Drew tried to get ahold of me on the radio, and I didn't reply.
Any other dispatcher probably would have resorted to yelling, or who knows what. Not Drew. After I failed to answer his first few calls, he called out “Radio 15.”
I almost immediately answered. “15, go ahead.”
“22, I've got a call for you over on Drake Rd.”
There was a pause as I worked it out in my head. “Ah, 10-4. 22 is on the way.”
__________________________________
In case you're wondering how I knew what I slept through, when I got back to the dispatch office, he told me how many times he'd called me as 22, and said that he figured I was sleeping in the truck, and that using my normal number would get my attention. I admitted that I was—since the two of us were cool, he wasn't mad. And he said that when he'd been a cab driver, he'd done the same thing all the time.
We had a list of ten codes, although we only used a few of them normally.
There were two guys that I normally worked the night shift with. One of them was a rather heavyset individual that I'll call Chris after Chris Farley. He was kind of dumb, although as far as I know, perfectly competent at his job.
Anyway, one night the dispatcher and I were hanging out in the dispatch office because there weren't any calls for me, and the dispatcher got out the list of 10 codes and scanned down it a bit, then he picked up the mic.
“Radio 19, what's your 13?”
There was a long pause, and then Chris finally replied. “I'm thirty-three on the forty-fiveway.”
* * *
The dispatcher always liked messing with Chris. One winter day when I was in the dispatch office, Chris called in. “19 Radio, I slipped on the ice and hit my head on the wrecker.”
“10-4, would you like me to send the flatbed?”
A moment later, he came back on the radio, sounding rather insulted. “No.”
One of the useful things that we had on the trucks was an external speaker. Drivers were supposed to turn it on whenever they left their trucks to hook up a car or do a winchout or anything else that would require them to be out of the vehicle, and we were supposed to turn it back off when we got back in the truck.
Of course, that was a hard thing to remember, and most of us would just turn it on and leave it on.
On occasion, this had unintended consequences.
One time, I was going through the drive-thorough at Taco Bell, which was one of the few restaurants in Kalamazoo that was open late at night and had fast food. I was in the middle of giving my order when the other driver radioed in, and the poor guy at Taco Bell got so confused.
Another time, I'd stopped at a convenience store to pick up a Mountain Dew or something like that, and I was up at the counter as a man and his young son walked into the store. As the door was swinging shut behind them, I heard the end of a radio message on the external speaker, and the kid's eyes lit up. “Daddy, that truck is talking!”
Finally, remember that this was back in the days when if you had a cell phone at all, it could make calls for about ten minutes until the battery died, and the only app it had was the one that made calls.
I'm not the greatest at math, but I generally do okay at simple addition. This quickly became known to the other drivers who were even worse at math than I was.
I can't remember how it got started; probably when Luke was trying to add up a bunch of charges to radio it in to the dispatcher. I trained with him, so it might have even been while I was training. Regardless, it got to the point that I became the go-to guy for addition, so we'd have conversations like this:
“12 to 15, you got a copy?”
“10-4”
“What's thirty for the hookup plus ten miles plus twenty for the dollies?”
“Um . . . seventy dollars.”
“10-4, thanks.” A brief pause. “12 to radio, total for my tow is seventy dollars.”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NATO_phonetic_alphabet
Towtrucks are fun to break physics with. Everyone always uses Chinooks to pick other players up and screw with them, but towtrucks have their own advantages.
(25:07)
My beer almost came out my nose
The internet's great: whippersnappers like me can learn about the good old days without leaving our
nestsbedroomshousesparents' housesbedrooms in parents' houses.I'm super confused on locations. All this time I though you were around K-zoo. But Drake RD and Schoolcraft, that's in Livonia. Not exactly close.
It still is oddly gratifying to read a story or a blog and know the places being talked about.
Phonetic Alphabet.
And Q is for Quail. :P
4746620
Wait until we get into some of the fun stuff I got to do with the winch.
4746626
I can't actually remember the prices we charged for different things (it's been almost 20 years, after all), but it was generally pretty simple addition.
4746630
Isn't it? Back in my day, I had to go to the library to learn stuff. And it was uphill both ways. In a snowstorm.
4746634
It was Kalamazoo. Drake Road is on the west side of the city (it also has another name, but I'll be damned if I remember what it was. Tenth St., maybe). And Schoolcraft--that's the city/village/whatever. On 131, just south of Kalamazoo.
Now that you mention it, though I do think I remember Drake Rd. from when I lived out in Metro Detroit. But I can't remember where it went. Was that another name for 15 Mile?
Well, I could talk about the metro Detroit area some, although I don't have too many terribly interesting stories about it. We moved back out into the country not too long after I got my driver's licence, so there was a limit to how much I could get up to.
4746652
Sure, if we throw birds into it, but if we're only doing mammals, Quail doesn't qualify.
I know now about Quokkas, but I didn't then.
traveller.com.au/content/dam/images/g/u/n/q/h/0/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.gunpvd.png/1488330286332.png
Yay! Story time with Grampy Biscuit! For serious dude, these are a blast, please keep em up.
20 years?? 👍
4746671
Or Quaggas! Which is also pony-appropriate!
4746670
I get it now. There is a Drake RD that runs north south from walnut late to nine mile. Schoolcraft RD runs alongside I-96 In Livonia/Farmington.
But I remember Schoolcraft college along 94 near Kalamazoo.
I was curious before, because from the descriptions of your boss man.. I started to wonder if I knew him, but alas no, other side of the state.
ALWAYS use Nato Standard.
I once got a call when I was pissed off and the person wasn't using them... I may have gone off on her a bit, I calmed down after 20 seconds and apologized but it's become a pet peeve.
I rapidly lose patience. Hell I'll lay back on you with the proper ones so fast you'll ask me to repeat 3 times. Banks are the worst for this "uhh S as in Susan. Umm.... M as in Monkey, Q as in umm, Quiche?" I shit you not, Quiche.
10 codes are also fun to mess around with, one that's become VERY popular these days is 10-21 which basically means call my cell.
Hush, you'll break Optimus Prime's Cover! (Or given the type of truck, Hoist's I think).
I lol'd
I remember when my dad had the brick phone. Man, he loved that thing, he had the big battery pack on it that made it even bigger and heavier, but he always said the battery life was excellent. When he finally got a flip phone he wouldn't stop bitching about how bad the battery life was. And in my experience, starting with the Motorola Razr, battery life has been shit until I got to the Galaxy S4.
The guys in our local tow company always park on a quiet side street right next to my shop - in the middle of the day. I know they're just there having a wank because the owner constantly bitches about his drivers taking too long, and whenever I need a tow it takes forever. That, and the fact that their base of operations is literally a minute away, they could just park there and have a wank, but they don't want the boss to know.
Also, I've taken to using NATO alphabet when ordering parts. I mean, it's obvious with VIN numbers, but ffs, the guys at Advance consistently fuck up if I'm ordering for an E-150 or an F-150! I mean, E and F don't sound remotely similar. Only problem now is that every car parts guy thinks of an Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera when I say S
I know a wrecker driver. Likes to buy scratch tickets at my workplace regularly.
Helped me out of a jam when my sunfires shift cable broke and left me stranded (he saw me there on the side of the road and towed me to a garage. fastest turnaround ever)
Your blogs are a delight
I remember that one from Silver Glow's Comment, I just couldn't stop myself from laughing for a few minutes.
In fact, the first thing I thought when I read the title of the blog was "Launch torpedoes!"
So if 20+30+10miles=70, we can deduce that tarrification was 2$ per miles.
One of these days I want to get my CB back in my pickup just for the hell of it. I need a new power cord, though. The one i have is missing the fuse caps for the three fuses so its a no go. Plus while it does need a thicker power cable than normal, I definitely don't need how thick the one I have is. It was kinda made from extra other cables, I think smaller jumper cables.
My main radio is a Cobra 200, slightly modified, and with a linear kicker. A Monkey-made antenna with a tri-mag mount. I would like to get a permanent mount and figure out how to hook it to my toolbox, but that would require some steel on the inside or it would just rip off the toolbox, lol.
On a good day, I can get to Florida on the side bands, lol. On channel 19, I used to be able to just barely talk to a base station on off the I-94 exit 145 (Sergeant road exit I think), when approaching the I-94/I-69 interchange if the conditions where right. Otherwise I think it usually only gets about 25-28miles.
Note: the pick had to be running. And even then every light on the truck dimmed just keying up.
Fun note: I used to be able to sit in my friends driveway and yell at him to come out through his stereo system on a few of the lower channels.
And a fire engine, while you're at it.
4746671
Quagga?
4746672
I shall!
4746678
I graduated from college before some of y'all were even born.
4746691
That would have been totally perfect. Unfortunately, I didn't know they were a thing 20 years ago, either.
4747331
born in 2000 so i guess so! lol
4746716
There is a Schoolcraft college?
I mean, I guess there could be. I don't remember it from my time in Kalamazoo (the ones I know are KVCC, Nazareth, WMU, and K-College). Schoolcraft is a good name for a college.
Well, it's not impossible that you'd know him. I currently live in central/southeast Michigan (really depends on where you draw the lines), and that's where he's from originally, although he also spent time living in the UP. Which is funny, because he doesn't do well in cold. He's been complaining about how cold it is since about September. Meanwhile, I'm in the shop working in a t-shirt.
4746783
Nowadays, I tend to mix and match, just because nearly everyone I deal with that uses the phoenetic alphabet uses the police one.
Bring it on.
Quiche is a good one. I wouldn't have much chance to use it, though, since there aren't Qs in vehicle VINs.
"Call by telephone." I bet that one was arranged back in the days of radio police cars and pay phones on every corner (and on one memorable occasion, tied to the back of my Oldsmobile).
4746798
By amazing coincidence, at that time in Kalamazoo there was a biker gang (and here I use the term very loosely) called the Moped Army, and they used the Decepticon logo on their mopeds.
4746799
He was carrying around a car battery in that bag; of course the battery life was excellent.
I was super-excited when I got my Razor, and the battery lasted days if I didn't use the phone too much. Which I didn't, because I'm mostly a Luddite when it comes to that kind of thing.
One of the things you need to know when you drive a local vehicle of any sort is where you can hide for whatever purpose.
I do that, too, just because they'll find some way to mess up (and then I confirm, and sometimes they still screw up). And most of the good parts guys do also use a phonetic alphabet back.
There's one guy that used to be at NAPA and then he got fired and moved to NAPA in the great parts store switch that we had in our little town . . . anyways, it's always an adventure ordering things from him. He has real trouble with fractions, so if I order a 3/16 brake line, I might get a 3/8 fuel line, or who knows what.
Also, the Ciera/Sierra confusion is GM's fault, and it's not only parts guys that make that mistake. I caught it once in a NTSB highway accident report (HAR0302; it's on page 12 of the PDF). [That report answers the question of whether or not Ford Explorers can fly; the answer is yes, briefly.]
4746866
It's good to know that kind of people.
I got picked up by a snowplow driver who recognized me and saw me walking after I'd skidded the shop truck off the road to avoid an accident in a snowstorm. He kindly offered to give me a ride back to the shop; unfortunately, we only made it a mile before we got cut off by a city bus and I wound up getting to go to the hospital on a backboard.
It wasn't the best day at work.
4746871
Thank you!
4746911
There were days when I wished that the truck had torpedoes to launch. Mostly when some moron cut me off.
Yup. That's the figure I used in the blog post, anyways; I can't remember what we actually charged. But it was a fairly round number.
4746915
My shiny new Jeep has one of those big fat amp cables in it. It's got no amps (and in fact, no radio). Of course, a lot of those wires are big for show and don't really do much for actually transmitting electricity.
We used I think 12/3 in the theatre (might have been 10/3), and if that could run a thousand watt lighting instrument at the end of fifty feet of cable, that would probably do the job for your CB, unless it's powerful enough to reach the moon.
Build a mount to a 2" trailer hitch receiver. That ought to hold, although you wouldn't be able to tow trailers while having your antenna installed.
That's pretty good distance on 19. I had a bog-standard Cobra crap CB in my S-10 with a magnetic antenna on the roof, which was good for four or five miles if the wind blew the radio waves in the right direction.
That happens to my minivan whenever I take my foot off the gas. I think it might need an alternator and/or a battery, but I'm too cheap to fix it while the van's still working.
There was one fast-food restaurant that I could pick up their drive-through on my CB. Every now and then I thought about ordering a bunch of random stuff, or sitting nearby and trying to order food when there weren't any cars in the drive-through lane.
4747228
Our powers (well, the dispatchers) did extend to having a direct line to Kalamazoo Public Safety.
4747317
Had I known about them at the time. . . .
4747335
What's even funnier is that my 'new' Jeep (that I bought as a driver, not as an antique) is also older than you.
4747363
wow now that's something!!
ahh, story time again. These are great
4746663
...and we LIKED IT!!!
Sorry, that's just part of the thing. You have to say it.
4747379
That's actually how I identify younguns--if my car is older than you, you're a youngun.
4747829
4748277
That must be a regionalism (seriously), because I've never heard anyone around these parts saying that.
Are you British?
4749088
I can't claim that particular honor, being US born and raised... But I'm not too incredibly distant from British Columbia. Does that count?
The "And we liked it!" meme probably started with Saturday Night Live's "Grumpy Old Man" segments. I never thought it was all that funny, but somehow it stuck with me. A great many unpleasant things are sticky, after all.
Blame the difference in voltage, I guess. Two amps of current at 120 volts will give you 240 watts, while two amps at 12 volts gives you only 24 watts, and a line-resistance voltage drop of even one volt on a 12 volt system makes a significant difference.
I'm currently playing "catch up with the blog posts" (it's a fun game to play at 3:00 in the morning when you can't sleep!) and I realized that I have a somewhat amusing story involving tow trucks.
Let's set our wayback machines to the year 1987. A 19-year-old German pilot somehow managed to land his Cessna in Moscow's Red Square, Aretha Franklin was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the popular Tracy Ullman show debuted a new animated short series about a family called the Simpsons. And, in Minnesota, a young Hoopy McGee, freshly minted driver's license in his wallet, was driving his beat up '77 Buick Regal to a nearby mall in order to do a little shopping.
It was snowing in a particularly ugly fashion on this day. These were no light and fluffy flakes, oh no. Instead, we were treated to huge wet clumps that fell with a distinct "splat". Perfect for making snowmen? Perhaps... but not so great for driving in, especially when you have a not-very-experienced driver behind the wheel.
I remember that I was in a fairly good mood at the time, before the event. I had bummed around some shops, bought a few things, and ate something at the food court which had somehow not made my guts twist into a knot. It had been what I can best describe as an amiably good time.
In order to get home, I had to get onto the freeway. This particular on-ramp was about a half-mile long and had a wicked curve in it about mid-way, but I was confident in my driving skills and paid it no mind.
In retrospect, I should have paid it at least a little bit of mind.
I was about just starting through the curve and moving at a good clip when I hit an icy patch, at which point my car suddenly decided that curves were for squares, and what it really wanted to do was go in straight line. Now, I had never experienced this before. Every time I had driven the car previously, it had done more or less what I had expected it to do. Not this time. The road curved, and I did not. I shot, straight as an arrow, into about fifteen inches of that damp, heavy snow, making one hell of a furrow as I did so. And, thanks to the curve of the road, I was probably about 60' away from the nearest pavement.
It's mandatory in my state to have a shovel in the trunk of your car. So, of course I tried to get out of this mess by myself. This did not work. At all. It was foolish to even try.
So, off I went, trudging through the snow, until I got to the nearest gas station. I had some spending money on me, but nowhere near enough for a tow truck. I had to make a call.
Of course, the best person to call would have been my mother. I did not do this for one very important reason: It was a school day. I was not in school. Hoopy was playing hooky.
Instead, I called my grandmother. I still feel tremendous guilt over this, but at the time I wanted to at least delay the scolding I'd get from my mom for a few hours. My grandmother came out, and she ran her card to get a truck sent out. It took a while—I wasn't the only one whose car had unexpectedly gone off on strange and exciting journeys—but eventually one was available. The driver had me get in the passenger seat so I could give him directions. When we arrived, he pulled off to the side so as not to block the freeway's entrance ramp.
What I recall is that the gentleman looked at my poor car, and the "lane" I had created in the snow, and he gave a low whistle as if he were genuinely impressed. "You really planted her in there," he told me, and laughed a little bit. And I felt oddly embarrassed and proud at the same time. It was like it wasn't just an accident, it was an accomplishment.
I remember being completely in the dark about how he'd get my car out of there... I knew about winches, but I didn't know they could run the cable out that far. He assured me it would be no problem and he left me in the cab while he trudged out to my car with the line. He shoveled out some space behind my car so he could work, then hooked everything up and came back to the truck. He started the winch and I watched with excitement as my car shifted... and then the cable snapped.
The driver wasn't quite so amused now. He was even less amused when he discovered that someone had removed the tools he needed from the truck, so he couldn't re-attach the hook to the cable. "We have to go back to the shop," he told me, all humor now gone from his voice.
Only, we couldn't. Because he'd pulled over too far and he couldn't get his truck out out of the dense snow.
He goes on the radio and I, feeling the tension, decide to get out of the cab and enjoy some nice Minnesota winter weather. "Ah! The snow clumps are particularly nice today!" I told myself while the driver explained the situation over the radio. One of the clumps hit me in the head, leaving me mildly concussed, but there was no way I was climbing back in that cab. I had a feeling the dispatcher was laughing at him for getting stuck, which did absolutely nothing to improve anyone's mood.
A second truck was dispatched and arrived shortly after—my theory is that they rushed him out there so they wouldn't be down a truck during a peak towing period. The new driver was older and, apparently, much more experienced. He got out of his truck and walked over to us, already shaking his head. "This is gonna need both of us," he said. The two of them fixed the first truck's cable, then I had two lines hooked up to my car.
This time, my car moved pretty steadily backwards. However, the second driver had no compunctions over whether or not he blocked traffic. Either he hadn't wanted to repeat the same mistake as the first driver and get himself stuck, possibly requiring the use of a third truck to unstick us all, or he simply didn't care. Traffic backed up for a good ten minutes or more while all this nonsense was going on. I mean, it was probably around ten minutes. But, as I sneaked the occasional peek back at all the enraged and frustrated drivers stuck behind the mess I was directly responsible for, it honestly felt like it took years.
Finally, my car was in the clear and back on the road. The older driver was pretty kind to me at this point, taking me around the car to look for damage (surprisingly, there was none) and advising that I scoop the snow out of the grill and the wheel wells before I tried to drive anywhere. I did so while he pulled the first driver out of the snow he was stuck in, and then they both waited until I got in my car and drove off.
Not much else to say... I took the first exit I could so I could go back to the garage and tell my grandmother that everything was now hunky-dory. She nodded, patted me on the cheek and said, "This is why we don't skip school." I then drove home very carefully, and I've had a healthy respect for snow and ice ever since.
And, yes, my mother chewed me out and took my license away for a couple of weeks, and I was required to pay my grandmother back. Which I was going to do anyway, but now it was part of the punishment, which somehow made it worse.
Anyway, that's my tow truck story. Hope you liked it!
4749135
I think it's fair.
I dunno, my mind went right to that Monty Python sketch where they were all talking about their lives as kids, and that's why I thought British. The "and we liked it" might very well be a regionalism. Or. . . .
That's also possible. I never saw those myself.
Well, yes, that does make a difference (and it's weird to me that the more voltage, the smaller wires you can get away with). And you're right, voltage drop can be a problem when you're dealing with high-powered devices. For me, it's generally starters that are affected, but then I don't do stuff with aftermarket audio/broadcast equipment.
4749480
That's a wonderful story! Especially in hindsight (but then the best stories are only good in hindsight, I think).
Interestingly, I've been in all the positions in the story. I got my truck stuck on a road once (although calling it a road was a bit generous), and the wrecker driver said that most people didn't make it that far.
I didn't know if I should feel proud for getting further than most people did, or stupid for not realizing that this wasn't a road that any sane person would drive on.
I've also been stuck in a wrecker multiple times. They're generally not very good once you get them off pavement, and even if you position them well, sometimes they get dragged in when you're winching. Not having a long enough winch cable (or having it break) is also a constant problem, as is tearing off attachment points on the car (which I've done before).
And I've been the guy sent out to recover another truck after it got pulled into a lake. And I also winched our four-wheel-drive wrecker out one night, although in that case we knew it was going to get partially stuck in the recovery, so we had two trucks on site for that particular winchout.
4751944
It's a thing... That's why the power grid is based on high-tension (around 115KV, maybe higher) wires 'way up in the air. If they tried burying the wires, they'd have to use a lower voltage and thicker wire. Basically a cost thing.
4752262
I think up to 300kV on our systems, but it varies. I just remember watching an episode of World's Toughest Fixes where he was playing with a 300kV line.
I believe that if you space them as far as you do on overhead lines, you wouldn't have to use bigger wire, or insulation (assuming an air gap), although those would have to be damn big tunnels. Not entirely sure, though, but I am fairly sure that the high tension lines aren't insulated.
You can also build a liquid nitrogen cooled power transmission system, although that's even more cost-prohibitive.