1967 - Another Muddy Field

1967 - Running a Muddy Field

It was a cold and rainy early-spring night. The club meeting of the Dunes Beach Surf Club had been uneventful as I climbed into the family station wagon which was mine for the evening. We had held our meeting in John’s basement instead of at the Dunes Lodge due to the weather. The windshield wipers made a futile effort to keep the window clear but mostly just smeared the dirty rain and mud evenly across the window. I had stayed a bit late to talk with John and Maureen so it was late and the rain had only gotten worse. I had ducked under my collar as I ran to the car but my back was still soaked by the downpour that succeeded in invading my CPO Jacket and shirt. After wiping my glasses on my still-wet sleeve I backed out of John’s driveway and started forward creeping slowly forward hoping for a let-up in the weather and squinting through smeared glasses and windshield. His was a small neighborhood with some paved streets that occasionally intersected with a dirt road which had now, of course, turned into mud. I crept around the corner and picked up speed. I had a 3-block stretch in front of me and there was no traffic so I was confident about my ability to navigate the next few blocks. I slowed at the intersections as visibility was still bad but, seeing no cars approaching, would hit the gas and proceed on without pause. Seeing the mud ahead I asked my self how far I had gone as it didn’t seem I had quite gone the three blocks expected. Although the intersection looked “wrong” and regardless of my uncertainty I proceeded forward accelerating through the intersection. I was sinking fast into the mud when I realized I had severely miscalculated and driven into a freshly plowed and very wet farmer’s field. I hit the gas to power through knowing that pulling a muddy car out of a field in the rain was not something I wanted to do this evening. I figured I had powered myself out of similar predicaments and resolved to do the same this time. The rear end dug in and felt like it was going to stick solid when it lurched and broke loose. I shot forward turning the farmer’s neat furrows into a mass of muddy lines and furrows that now crossed diagonally across the field making one radical turn to avoid the telephone pole laying on it’s side which also marked the edge of his field. Spotting a clear spot to my right I spun the wheel in that direction barely missing the telephone pole and plowing through the opening into the overgrown field that made up the remainder of this block.

I was free from the soft mud in the plowed field but was still stuck in the middle of a muddy field in which I could not stop for continuing fear of getting stuck. The field was not as loose as the farmer’s field but was not really firm as it was still just weeds growing through rich black mud. I was headed west running the length of the field for no reason except it was the direction I was facing when I emerged from the plowed field. Spinning the wheel to the left I slid into a turn and my right rear tire bumped another telephone pole that I spotted at the last second. I was headed back toward the neighborhood which meant my only exit would be someone’s backyard. I spun the wheel again. Emerging from a muddy field into someone’s mowed lawn wasn’t my idea of being a good neighbor so I was headed back north toward the main road. I could see the street through the bushes that densely populated the field but every time I got a glimpse of road I also saw a telephone pole lying in my way. I’d had driven the length and breadth of the field and had found no way out when I glimpsed pavement through a break in the brush. It appeared to be a 10’ patch of un-mowed, but fairly short grass and I could not see a telephone pole. I jerked the wheel toward the pavement hitting the gas determined to power through anything in my way.

I shot through the opening in the brush to find myself on solid pavement spraying mud high and wide behind me. I threw caution to the wind and counted on the sparse traffic to be light enough to let me onto the road when I realized I was not yet on the road. I was, instead moving as fast as I could to assure my release from the muddy field…down someone’s driveway headed straight for their garage. There was no time to change direction which, if I had tried this maneuver, would have simply changed my aspect as the vehicle would continue on in the same direction. The thick mud I could feel on the tires meant I would probably simply begin sliding sideways toward that same garage. In the same split second I realized my location I also noticed 3 other things: 1) There was no car in the garage, 2) it was a drive through garage with both sides open and 3) the door opening from the house to the garage was slowly opening as I sped toward the open garage door. There was no stopping as my speed was too high to even consider a stop in the short distance I had in front of me. I instantly timed the unfolding events in my head: if whoever was emerging through that door moved too fast they would be in my pathway before they saw me. They would be ok if they moved casually but, knowing I was not in control of the speed with which they dispatched whatever errand they were on, I quickly examined the other part of the equation: my own speed. A snap decision told me to hit the gas and get to the garage before the emerging individual had a chance to fully exit the house.

I shot through the open garage spewing mud everywhere, wheels protesting with a loud *blump* *blump* *blump* coming from the tires as they spun in the mud encased wheel wells. As I passed the now open door I could see past the emerging adult male to the kitchen behind him. He was slightly balding with a little mid-age paunch, in t-shirt and dress pants held up by suspenders. He stood round-shouldered and open-mouthed, on the top step with a small pail of garbage in hand, head on a swivel and staring in disbelief at the sight in front of his eyes. As I spun onto the main road I glanced into my rearview mirror to see the gentleman standing as before, mouth still agape, frozen in place staring at my vanishing taillights. He appeared to be somewhat worse for the wear as he was now covered with the same dark-colored spots I noticed distributed throughout the garage and which appeared to be the same color as the tracks that ran from the field, made a short trip over the bitter end of his lawn, headed through his garage, onto the road and disappeared somewhere under my car.

I imagine after the shock wore off he headed for a shower hopefully only to wash the mud off…but maybe also to change his pants. Me? I was relieved this incident was pretty much over and that no one was hurt.

Heart beating a-mile-a-minute headed for the local do-it-yourself car-wash.