You know those signs that tell you not to drive into flooded areas?
Every time I’d see one, I always wondered about the target audience. I mean, who would be stupid enough to drive into a flooded area? And if they were that stupid…well, maybe ol’ Darwin had the right idea.
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Based on the cover photo, you may have already guessed where this story is going. I don’t have to look very far to find someone stupid enough to “enter when flooded.” I see that guy in the mirror every morning when I shave.
You see, there’s a creek that flows across the dirt road out to the West End Gun Club. I’ve been driving across it for close to 40 years now. Most of the year, it’s a dry creek bed. After a rainy spell, we’ve had times when it was so obviously flooded I wouldn’t attempt to cross it. Most of the time. But other times when the water was flowing, it didn’t look bad enough or deep enough to keep me from taking a chance. I mean, what could go wrong?
I guess I’m one of those guys who has to urinate on the electric fence to see for himself. Yep, I finally got stuck, and stuck good. I always figured with my all wheel drive Subie I could get out of anything. But you know, AWD ain’t the same as 4WD. Something I learned today.
When I heard the underside of the Subie hit the ground on the ledge (that was now more of a bank than a ledge), it hit hard. I felt it as much as heard it. I was in trouble. I tried to back out, but I knew from the downward facing hood the Subie’s butt was in the air and I could feel the front wheels spinning in the water. I was balanced on the bank, and I could feel the car rocking and pivoting slightly to the right. It was like being in a formulaic movie or a bad dream when a car has gone out of control and is hanging over a cliff. I opened the door and the bank was directly under the opening, and as I looked at the ground, the bank was eroding. In the wrong direction. Water started coming over the door sill and into the car.
I beat a hasty exit out the passenger door. Other folks going to the range, wondering if they could cross, had stopped and were watching me. I had set the example. The spectators tried to help by pulling down on the rear bumper. It did no good. I was high sided, and if anything, the car was moving more toward the stream, which was starting to look like Niagara Falls. Yikes.
I called the Auto Club, but they put me on hold. The bank continued to give way under my Subie, so I called 911. They took my info and I never heard from them again, nor did anybody show. You know the old saying…when seconds count, the cops are only minutes away. The other spectators drifted away. I was on my own.
Then a miracle occurred. Good buddy Lee, who I met for the first time this morning, came by in a Jeep. A real Jeep. With a winch. We connected (literally and figuratively), but it was no good. As the winch did its thing, it dragged the Jeep toward the Subie. Lee and I looked at my situation. Lee put boulders in front of the Jeep’s wheels, and the winch dragged them along, too. “If I could hook up to another vehicle,” Lee said, “we could make this work.”
Then the second miracle occurred. Another newly-met good buddy named Aaron rolled up in a big Dodge pickup. He hooked up to Lee’s Jeep, Lee hit the winch button, and just like that (with some God-awful undercarriage scraping and grinding), I was free. For a few seconds, I thought my future held a commission as a U-boat commander, but no more. Lee and Aaron, wherever you are, thanks much!
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