Another Day in the Country: Raising the roof about mud roads
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
Mom was at our house for one of our garden dinners — new potatoes, green beans, fresh beets — when the rain started. We'd been watching the weather with an anxious eye because the roof on the house that we call Green Acres (for obvious reasons, if you remember the TV series by that name) was torn off and waiting to be repaired. "I'm going over to check on that plastic we put down," my sister said. Within minutes she called, "Help! It's ripped away. I need you."
For several frantic minutes the two of us moved the contents of the de-roofed room to a more secure part of the house while the rain increased in intensity. Any attempt to put the plastic tarps back on was fruitless. Any little indentation quickly filled with cold rain water which poured down on our heads as we struggled to cover the gaping holes.
When we finally climbed into our cars to head home, we were sopping wet, cold and frustrated. And what to our wondering eyes should appear but a train stopped across the tracks, effectively closing off any entry or exit from Ramona.
The windows fogged up in the cars, as we waited and waited and waited! Rain was still trickling off our hair, down our necks and puddling in our britches. Our shirts, pants, socks, shoes, spirits — all soggy. Somehow our discomfort made the clogged tracks even more intolerable than usual.
My sister finally climbed out of the car behind me and came to my window. "So what do you think? Should we attempt to go around?" I told her, "Lead on. I'll follow."
We'd just crossed the tracks and were on mile No. 3 of our "around-the-block-trek" east of town when I suddenly realized that we were on a MUD road! It looked like there was gravel on it, but not enough. We slip-slid-sloshed our way for a stretch, wondering whether to go forward or backward and sometimes doing both directions within a few feet until the car ahead stopped. "There's more gravel on my shoes than on this road," said Jessica disgustedly as she stood dripping at my window. "Let's hope no one sees us!" I'll tell you right now, I was hoping someone DID see us and would come galloping to our rescue!
We got the Honda out — it's a front wheel drive — but had to leave the poor Chevy crossways in the road (with the keys on the dash so that our rescue squad could actually start the car). How embarrassing! Those girls from California caught in the rain on a mud road.
There are no mud roads that I know of in California; but we did have snow every once in awhile in the hills above the Napa Valley. An inch of snow and a little ice left whole communities snow bound. I used to laugh smugly at the marooned locals. Coming from the Midwest, I felt so superior knowing how to drive in winter weather. Now who is laughing?
When we got back to the house, we immediately started clearing the mud from out and under the Honda. Mother came to the door and called "Girls! I'm so glad you're back. There's a man on the phone who wants to talk to you." At that point Mom still hadn't heard about our muddy adventure!
"He just said the strangest thing to me," Mom continued. "He wanted to know why I hadn't trained you to stay off of mud roads."
It's another day in the country and only in Ramona would someone be able to see straight across the field, know our dilemma instantly and then move in for the rescue! "I pulled your Mom's car out of the mud," said Rick on the phone. "It's back on the gravel road. Think you can make it home now?"
