I promised you a story. First I want to say thank you for all of your support. You don’t know how much it means to me. Thank you. Things are getting better, I know they will.
****This is not a short story. But I promise you it is worth the read and includes a daring midnight rescue, a shovel, loud music, and camping terrorists.*****
The other night I was feeling especially mental and had to get out of the house. So I jump out of bed and throw on some flip flops and capri loung pants, grab my purse, leave a note for the boy, and go. I needed to drive. The weather was nice and I just wanted to roll the windows down and not have to think. I drove around town a bit and explored some of the streets near our neighborhood that I hadn’t been down before. Then after about 40 minutes or so I decided to come home.
I pulled into the back entrance of our neighborhood and drove toward our house. I was passing the entrance to this new development that’s being built and noticed they had paved the streets. So I turned into the development so check out the progress. Well, the pavement ended rather quickly, but I could see that some “roads” had been cut in the dirt by the trucks and I wanted to see if they’d carved out the streets and where the houses would go.
Well, they hadn’t put in any street lights yet so it was really dark. And I live out in the country so dark is dark, not like city dark. So I could only see what my high beams would show me. This meant that at one point I’m driving on my side thinking I’m going to flip over. I couldn’t see where I was going very well and I got off the road somehow. I had to do a lot of back tracking to keep from driving into trenches. I finally decided I’d had enough and needed to turn around and go home. So I did turn around. But then it happened. I was stuck.
I was stuck in shin deep red clay mud that was clinging to my tires and spraying all over the car. Now is a good time to review my outfit. Flip Flops, capris, and a tshirt (sans bra) is not an outfit you want to be wearing when you find yourself in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night in the middle of a mud bog.
Well, I was not about to call my husband and play the damsel in distress. So I got out of the car (which is a Toyota Rav 4
named Jorge- meant for a tiny bit of offroading but nothing like this- Jorge was pissed let me tell you) and I took 2 steps and sunk into mud up to my shins. Then there was this sucky mucky noise and the mud sucked off my flip flops! So now I’m barefoot while assessing the situation. I started digging, but I didn’t have anything to dig with but my hands. I wanted to keep one clean for driving and calling 911 if need be so I only dug with my right hand. I got back in the car and tried to get out again. No go.
While I’m standing outside the car I hear all this music. Loud music, right through the trees behind me. Oh my God all I could think of was a band of terrorists huddled around a fire blaring their 50′s do wop music. The leader says “hey, you hear that? i bet that’s a girl stuck in the mud! let’s kill her!”
It was so dark out that I couldn’t see beyond about 100 yards, so I didn’t know how far away I was from the road or anything. I just knew I was way too close to killers. So I called Jon. Honey, I’m stuck.
No you’re not, just come home, it’s ok, we’ll talk.
No, honey, I’m stuck in the mud at Madison Green.
(Here’s where some expletives are thrown out and the name of the Lord is invoked a few times in vain) Where are you?
Not sure. I came in the main entrance then drove all around and now I can’t see anything but I hear the killers and their music.
(Again with the name of the Messiah) Ok, stay put, keep your headlights on and don’t keep gunning the engine. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Now’s a good time to point out that Jon lost his cell phone a few months ago, so this was our last bit of contact until he either rescued me or I haunted him after becoming a victim to forest killers.
While waiting for my heroic husband I dug some more, called 911, then hung up before anyone answered because who wants a ticket for tresspassing? Then I took my little purse flash light card and tried to signal passing planes. I took note of my supplies in the car: mints, stationary and a half of a warm diet Vanilla Coke. I’m going to die in my car. Maybe I should go ahead and call in dead to work.
Jon gets there in record time, about a half hour. He had to park the camry at the end of the pavement and just walk around the construction site until he saw my lights. Did I mention that this development will have about 400 homes when completed? Yeah, not small. Jon told me later that he got off the phone with me and said to himself “Ok, what do you take to dig your wife out of the mud?” He pulled on some old jeans, grabbed a shovel and a flashlight and extra batteries and hit the road.
I see a light bouncing around coming toward me. At first I’m all excited- it’s Jon! So I flick my little light back at him. Then I think- killers! So I jump in the car and turn out the lights and pray they’re too drunk to find me. But then I realized they wouldn’t sneak up on their prey with flashlights, so I got back out of the car and waved Jon over. When he walks up to me he says I look like I’m wearing moon boots the mud is so caked around my legs.
The digging commences. Jon doesn’t think we’re gonna make it. We’ll just have to call a tow and walk back. I remind him I’ve lost my shoes and I’m carrying a Coach bag and I’ll be damned if I’m slipping in the mud and getting it all mucky. Plus, I have to be to work at 9 am! At this point it’s about 10:30pm. Fine then just hold the flashlight.
I had already gotten my right hand muddy so I dug around the back wheels while he took the front. We dig for about 30 minutes and try the car again. No go. Jon says we’re just digging deeper dammit and not making much headway. I say should I call Hale? Or our neighbors across the street? Jon stops and looks at me and says Honey this is one thing the neighbors need not know about.
We dig for another 20 minutes or so. Well, Jon digs and I scooped with my hand and batted away mosquitoes who managed to bite the very little bit of skin that was not covered in mud. People, I had mud all in my hair, all over my face, all up and down my arms and legs. Purty.
Jon says we’re ready to try again. I get back in the driver’s seat (my front mat is caked in mud) and Jon takes his position ready to push. Poor boy gets smattered with muddy clay each time I hit the gas. Finally! We’re out! He puts the shovel in the car with me and makes me follow him until he finds terra firma. Then he gets back in the car and we drive to the entrance of the development. His camry is there, but clean, so he leaves his shoes in my car. We drive back to the house and drop off the camry.
Ok, so now we need to wash the car. Problem is, we don’t want to do it at home and arouse suspicion, so we need to go to the self serve car wash. Other problem is we have no cash. Still covered in mud and barefoot (though Jon dug my shoes out for me as to not leave evidence at the scene) we drive into the next town to go to an atm. They only give me 20′s. The car wash will only take up to a 10. Dammit! Now we need change. Jon’s in the back seat covered in mud. I’m up front covered. The shovel and our shoes are also up front. We look like we just buried some bodies for the mob.
We drive to one fast food place to get a drink and change (we can’t go in a gas station or anything and it’s after 11:20 so our options are limited). The line was way too long. On the way to the 2nd fast food place we had to stop at a stoplight. These guys in the car next to us lean out and yell “Hey! Ya’ll been mudslinging??”. We make it to Bojangles and order teas and a biscuit (in all the drama I never ate dinner) and get our change. The lady at the drive through window looks like she’s about to call the cops on us. I’m trying to hide my muddy digging arm from her but it doesn’t matter because the car is caked and so is my face. I’ve got my right arm between the seats in the back and Jon keeps yelling don’t touch me with your muddy digging arm! He loves to freak out the locals.
We get to the car was only to find 2 other cars there vacuuming. In the middle of the night! Can it not wait people?? The change machine runs out of quarters and shorts us a dollar fifty. Jon’s yelling at it. It still won’t cough up the money.
Jon hangs up the mats on the wall (Thank you Jesus and Walmart for all weather mats, I may still be able to sell Jorge one day) and lines up our shoes and the shovel. He sprays off the car and the mats and shoes and shovel and that takes a good half hour and around $12.75. Then he calls me over and sprays off my legs. Man, those high powered car wash wands hurt!
We go home and as soon as we’re in the door we strip and head up to the bathroom. I get in the tub and Jon’s in the shower and by the end of it I look like I’m in one of those shishi mud baths. My skin retained a lovely orange glow for the next 2 days. But I got it all scrubbed off.
We went back to the scene Sunday morning to check it out in the daytime. Jon said had he been able to clearly see what I was in to he would have totally made me walk home. I was stuck a full mile from the main road, and another mile from our house. Oh, and the music we heard was from a Christian production. Apparently forest killers don’t listen to doo wop. I took pictures when we went back. I thought about taking them that night, but would have cried for sure had I lost my camera in the muck. You can view the pics here: “>Mudslinging.