Well, Shit! (Away Goes the Truck)

Truck rests comfortably in Carvin’s Cove.

The rain came in big drops.

I hadn’t been paddling in a couple of weeks so this morning–it being Sunday and all–I thought, shoot, I’ll put the kayak in the water and seek a little spirituality. The best laid plans of …

I pulled into the boat launch at the cove and backed up to the edge of the asphalt on a downhill slope. I briefly thought of applying the parking brake, but, nah; I don’t need it, I reasoned. First gear will hold. First gear would have held, but I had the truck in third gear.

I got the PFD, camera, water bottle and paddles out of the truck bed and put them beside the launch spot, then turned back toward the truck, which suddenly slipped back a notch. I spoke in expletives. And here came the truck. I ran toward it, grabbed the back of the cab–as if I were Captain Emeritus (as my favorite ex-wife calls me)–thinking I could stop it. Heh, heh, heh …

Wet? Yeh. Happy? Sure.

Into the drink went my 20-year-old truck. It stopped when about half of it was in the water, enough, I thought to drown it. But I got in and the dang thing started and tried to get out of the muck. The wheels, though, were buried in the mud and it couldn’t go anywhere.

I went to the boat house and asked the Carvins Cove dudes if they’d help and, sure, they said, they had a chain with a hook, and a city truck that would pull me out. And it did, without much problem.

I thought maybe I’d better mark this one up as a failure and go home and I started driving off. But, shoot, there’s no adventure in that, especially with thunder cracking and rain on the way. So I turned around, unloaded the kayak and paddled off into the rain. Smiling at my good fortune.

It got gray and wet after the truck went for a swim.

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