Saturday, March 19, 2011

mud season: when getting home’s a competitive sport

Ahhh, a sunny day. I have an 11-mile run scheduled for tomorrow, so today, Best Beloved and I hopped into the truck to scout out the local roads. Just how muddy are they? Will they suck my running shoes right off my feet? Are the shoulders on the paved roads sufficiently clear of snow that I have a place to go when the pickups go flying by?
About four miles from the house we came across an old Toyota sedan mired in mud halfway up the left-side tires. We pulled over to help, but didn’t get far before one of those fast-flying pickups approached and its driver – actually an angel in disguise – managed to tow the kid out. When we started up the Escape to continue our journey, the undercarriage made the most obnoxious grinding noise. Huh. We made it home fine, and Best Beloved performed outpatient surgery. (That’s when the car stays in the driveway.)
We don’t need this bit, do we?
Aahhhh…the shoes he got married in.

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