Chaos, Rains Supreme - Part 4

This posting's photo: just another mesa-top view, totally unrelated to this story.


I could see Mark standing on the far shore in his new and very nice 'go to town' shoes. "WHERE - ARE - YOUR - BOOTS?" I shouted over the noisy mirth of the creek. "IN - THE - TRUCK - BED!" he yelled back so I stopped and hunched over the bed to grab his boots as I completed the first vertigo-inducing creek crossing, regretting that I hadn't taken a motion-sickness pill to quell that strange feeling I get every time I plod perpendicularly through this rapid swill. "Shovels, tow rope, cell phone?" "One shovel." Sigh, valuable time was a-wasting. We would spend the next hour taking turns with the one shovel or hauling loaf-sized rocks to spit into the whirling slurry around the truck. Its appetite proved bottomless. After fifteen minutes, I was panting and staggering around blindly, ready to give up the ghost. I suddenly remembered back to a doctor's visit just before we made the move down here. He was less concerned about the 2" sliver of oak that disappeared completely into my forearm than having me check into the cardiac ward directly from his office. I became defiantly inspired; "Okay, so if there is some unseen malevolent force intent on tormenting me, you are not going to let me have 'the big one' and end your fun so abruptly, are you? Are you? Eh-heh-heh-heh!" and I returned to the task with a renewed vigor.

At the end of that hour, we had made some progress but clearly not enough. At one point, I lingered around the right front wheel too long and the mud sucked my boots downwards at an odd angle. There was nothing to do but follow physics and fall over backwards. I came to rest sitting rib cage-deep in the rushing brown gumbo and wondered what new micro-organisms I had just added to my existing bacteria load. Mark was able to reach out and pull me upright again but it was becoming obvious that we needed to call in help from that side of the creek. We headed back across to my truck. I took the dog blanket from the rear seat and made my muddy-bottomed self at home in the passenger's seat - - "Y-o-u drive."

Once we returned home to the one remaining viable cell phone, Virgil came to the rescue as usual. He was able to hook us up with the weekend gas field crew and Mark would rendezvous with a rescuer within a couple of hours. "Do you want to come with?" I passed on the invitation to new misadventure this time. I was quite happy to sit this one out after getting this new mud out of my life ... and my drawers, thank you. I needed some time alone to calm down and ponder the "Just what were you thinking?" aspect of this morning's events.

The rendezvous went exceedingly well since the weekend guy had been sent out with a helper. Between the three of them, an incredible amount of shoveling and hand scooping of dirt and rocks finally freed up the front undercarriage of the Ram and the tow out tug worked on the first real try. Mark was then able to pull the Ram up and out of the way onto the pipeline access road. On the way back to the creek, he noticed a large, unsavory puddle of black slime where the rear differential had been sitting in the interim. It was a good thing he noticed, too. Upon his return, he and Virgil discussed the ramifications of the mysterious puddle and the next wise steps necessary. He was sitting out on the porch in the cooler air but, in my sweating lethargy from inside the Rat, I could still hear him wrap up the conference with "Virgil, I think I am in DEEP s--t with management this time." Just where were those stunningly acute powers of observation a mere six hours ago?

To be continued this weekend

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Humor of the Day (from me beloved cuz Colin)

WARNING! I am still feeling neither well nor P.C. ... be forewarned

THREAT LEVELS

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats and have raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved."

Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." Londoners have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies all but ran out.

Terrorists themselves have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was during the great fire of 1666.

Also, the French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Surrender" and "Collaborate." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively paralysing the country's military capability.

It's not only the English and French that are on a heightened level of alert. Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans also increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbour" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual, and the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so that the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.