Truck-in-ditch is now truck-out-of-ditch. Four hours of mudslinging and chainsawing and Sal and I got the truck out. Drove it out. Mostly, kinda….
To be fair, Chris (a neighbour) was going by just as we were plucking up the courage to TRY driving it out and he slung a tow rope on, too. So, he drove, we drove and we all drove out and onto the road together very nicely. Would we have made it without Chris? I think so but, if I was wrong, we’d be back in mud-hole #1 again. Stuck like pigs.
Basically, the ditch was deep, gluey and the mudder of all muds. Every time I got in, I could not get out. I just kept sinking. So Sal ended up doing the jacking (Tinkerbelle does not sink like Shrek does) and I was doing the other stuff…chainsawing, dragging boards, rounds…you know….manly stuff.
But, again to be fair, ol’ Sal was lying in the mud and squeezing under the car to find the jack-points (or a strong part) under which to place the jacks. I’d bring her wood for the jack to have a ‘footing’ but every jacking slipped slowly down into the mud so we had to jack and jam (with planks and stuff) and then jack and jam further along…..repeat until you have a wooden road that is about 8″ higher than the mud in the ditch. Took awhile.
But by 3:00 pm (we started at 11:00 am) we were cleaning up, packing tools, ropes, chains, and wood planks home (by boat) and generally feeling a sense of accomplishment. The truck was parked in the community lot, no one got hurt. Everyone got muddy. And this is being written with a glass of plonk in one hand with a strong anticipation of dinner in the air.
Does it get any better?