Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...

At my high school, the parking lot had a wide array of four-wheel drive vehicles. There were the Jeep people, the Chevy folks, and the friendly Ford drivers. They had to be friendly because they tended to ask for rides almost as much as the Jeep people.     

Much of the conversation in the lunch room was about who was getting a lift, what tires were the best, and who got stuck most recently.    

The Ford, Chevy, and Jeep drivers all got along well. The only tribalism in the school parking lot was propagated by the Toyota drivers. They had a pretentious attitude, knowing that by the time their vehicle was getting broken in, the Jeep, Chevy, and Fords would be in the junkyard.

One of the Ford drivers had a knack for choosing the wrong puddle or rutted road to drive through. Let’s call him Buddy.    

Buddy made getting stuck in the mud look like the purpose of owning a truck. Frequently, he would call the driver of the Big Blue Chevy with a winch to get him out. Other times, he would have to call a tow truck. I think he even had a frequent tower punch card from one company.   

One fall week, a hurricane doused our area in inches of rain. There was a certain spot in a vacant lot that everyone would drive through to get a fresh coat of mud on their truck. After this storm, the hard bottom of the puddle softened.     

As Buddy went to get his truck muddy, he decided some donuts in the mud would accentuate his truck’s look. As he went into the mud, the truck bogged down up to the frame and there was no getting out. 

Buddy called around for help, but no one with a winch could get there, and the tow straps could not reach long enough for an extraction on solid ground. Buddy was stuck big time.    

At about this time, Buddy’s funds were low, and calling a tow truck was his only option. He asked his parents to borrow money to pay for the tow truck, and his parents saw this as a great teaching moment.  

The truck stayed in the ground for two weeks until Buddy earned enough money. During that time, the silver Ford was baked into the ground. When the tow truck showed up, he knew he was in for a challenge.     

The driver made Buddy dig out a hole to attach the chain to the frame. When a muddy Buddy secured the chain, the operator started the winch. The Ford didn’t budge as the tow truck was pulled toward the mud hole.          

The driver put some stabilizing spuds down and tried again. As the winch slowly pulled, the front end of the tow truck came off the ground. Certain expletives were muttered, and the driver attached the front of the truck to a large oak tree for one last try.          

The winch whined and struggled. The tow truck creaked, looking like it was being punished with the medieval stretching apparatus. The Ford stayed resolute in its muddy prison. Then a loud plunger noise rang out and out came the silver truck.              

We all cheered. The tow truck driver quickly packed up and drove away, muttering something like, “Dumb kids. Not worth it. Don’t call me again.” 

Buddy was no longer stuck in the mud and the lunch room the next day was abuzz with the story of how muddy Buddy almost broke a tow truck.