Charles Darwin, Alive and Well

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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