Friday Foto and story

As my mother's first born I was a major disappointment to her. My hair would not curl. I was always fussing with dresses and petticoats. And I never stayed clean. Debbie, my kid sister, did her bit at being an adorable little girl - for a while. Mother would probably blame me for leading her astray. But it was Debbie that drove us into that huge mud hole to the right in this picture.

Dad would be proud. Mom would pretend she didn't know us. Though I am wearing pink. She always wanted me in pink.

My followers on Facebook have probably seen this photo of after we rescued the Rubicon from its muddy imprisonment. It was no average mud puddle. Parts, like just outside the passenger side door recommended as THE way to get out of the Jeep, were three feet deep. It took more than an hour to get the Jeep out. Now the rest of the story.

We had just begun accessing the situation when along came a group of ATV tourists. I say tourist because they were all wearing clean and ironed clothes and riding totally spotless all terrain vehicles. The leader of the pack, in jeans with a crease, seeing out situation drove over to "offer assistance." He was quick to add from 20 feet away (he would not want to get his white shirt dirty) that he doubted he could help at all. Frankly I thought a couple of the ATV's linked by tow strap to the jeep might just do the trick but I could see the fear in his eyes; it would mean getting dirty.

Debbie and I proceeded to see if we could push the jeep back the way we had come - Deb at the wheel and me at the front bumper. Mr. Pressed Jeans offered some Sunday Morning quarterbacking from the private box (he was still sitting on the idling ATV). As we had already tried his suggestions before he arrived we ignored him.

He offered to radio for our rescue. That alone set him off as from-some-other-where because who he thought would be available and where he thought he would tell them to come were major issues. We had already covered that ground before getting out of the jeep. We had cell phone service. And we knew our GPS coordinates. But we were off the map as it were and it would take another jeep (or ATV's) to get to where we were if they could find the path we took. ATV's take another path.

I thanked him nicely for his concern and told him we could manage. And if we could not get the Jeep out we knew which way was home and could walk.

We did get the jeep out and on the way down the mountain headed to the car wash we spotted the pristine white pickup with the ATV trailer parked illegally just outside the National Forest gates where he could avoid a string of mud puddles on the road. We briefly considered taking some of the mud from the jeep and applying it decoratively to all that white. We didn't.

I would like to say my good side won out on that debate, moral upbringing and all, but it was rather more a fear that he was the type to make a federal case out of it and pay for the forensics to match the mud to the puddle and then to us even if we avoided fingerprints.