Anonymous Poster
Epic Contributor
- Joined
- Sep 27, 2005
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A little known fact about my already warped personality is that I have a phobia. It's stupid and dumb but it is just as phobia-ish as the fear of heights. It's the fear of getting stuck in the mud. The lengths I will go to to prevent getting stuck in the mud are generally more damaging than getting stuck in the mud ever could be.
Maybe I had a severe mud trauma as a child, I don't know, but the thought of sinking down into a boggy mire, alone in my truck and helpless to move forward gives me the cold sweats, and every day that passes it's gets muddier and boggier around here.
I just came back from the grocery store. It's been raining all day. The first 3/4 of a mile of dirt road leading back to the house was relatively fear free, but when I hit our section and saw what the bottled water guy did to it with his big old heavy truck, my knees started shakin'.
Oh Lord. Well there was only one thing to do. Hold the wheel straight, floor it, and don't stop until I hit the yard, or sink. So I did that, a little too enthusiastically I might add as I made the prettiest rooster tail I've ever seen, mostly because it's the only one I've ever made. I just got started going good when the neighbor's big red dog came a runnin', probably wondering what all the engine revving was about...
"Oh Lord, doggie, you need to not get in front of me because I am not gonna stop, I will plow you into the mud and not bat an eye doing it."
He stayed safely on the side watching as I slid to the left, slid to the right, did a couple more little rooster tails, and about halfway I'm sure he heard me shriek in terror when I felt the wheels start spinning and losing traction.
I'm here to tell you that it was a white knuckle experience. Fifteen feet from the gate I knew I was home free and I started giggling insanely.
"I made it! I made it!" I whipped into the yard and threw it in park, dancing a jig on the vinyl seat. Whew. Good thing I bought plenty of groceries, because you couldnt pay me enough to try and go down that road again. Not anytime soon anyway.
Maybe I had a severe mud trauma as a child, I don't know, but the thought of sinking down into a boggy mire, alone in my truck and helpless to move forward gives me the cold sweats, and every day that passes it's gets muddier and boggier around here.
I just came back from the grocery store. It's been raining all day. The first 3/4 of a mile of dirt road leading back to the house was relatively fear free, but when I hit our section and saw what the bottled water guy did to it with his big old heavy truck, my knees started shakin'.
Oh Lord. Well there was only one thing to do. Hold the wheel straight, floor it, and don't stop until I hit the yard, or sink. So I did that, a little too enthusiastically I might add as I made the prettiest rooster tail I've ever seen, mostly because it's the only one I've ever made. I just got started going good when the neighbor's big red dog came a runnin', probably wondering what all the engine revving was about...
"Oh Lord, doggie, you need to not get in front of me because I am not gonna stop, I will plow you into the mud and not bat an eye doing it."
He stayed safely on the side watching as I slid to the left, slid to the right, did a couple more little rooster tails, and about halfway I'm sure he heard me shriek in terror when I felt the wheels start spinning and losing traction.
I'm here to tell you that it was a white knuckle experience. Fifteen feet from the gate I knew I was home free and I started giggling insanely.
"I made it! I made it!" I whipped into the yard and threw it in park, dancing a jig on the vinyl seat. Whew. Good thing I bought plenty of groceries, because you couldnt pay me enough to try and go down that road again. Not anytime soon anyway.