On Sunday night at approximately 11:30 pm I heard a vehicle spinning in our road. I looked outside, and sure enough, a truck had come down our cul-de-sac and tried to turn around. We had gotten a lot of wet, slushy snow that morning (which canceled church) and much of it had frozen by night.
I listened to the truck tires spin so fast that he backfired. He kept at it. I told James there was someone stuck out there. He was on the computer doing a cool musical test (which I will post sometime). A few minutes passed.
Once the realization came that there was no way that truck was getting out unless it was because he wore a hole through to China, I got ready to go outside. James wasn't far behind, putting on his shoes as I went out the door.
The air was quite brisk and chill. One of our neighbors was trying to rock the truck back and forth out of the ice. As I walked up, I stepped on an area where the driver had spun his tires, turning it into glassy smooth, slick ice. Now, I am not a small gal by any stretch of the imagination, and trying to keep my footing on the ice--you can guess what happened. Yep, I went right down, thud. Our neighbor, a nice young guy (of course it would be that one!) reached out a hand and helped me up. At least I'm the type of girl to laugh off any embarrassment, goodness knows I've had enough practice.
I grabbed hold of the tailgate, and we rocked the truck back and forth while the driver spun his tires like mad. I remember thinking the houses in front of him would get a big shock if his wheels caught. We gave a big push, and got the truck going forward. Then he stopped! He actually stopped, and of course was stuck again. At this point James had come out of the house, and we told the guy to keep going this time.
I started rocking and pushing the truck with the others, and we got him moving. I kept running, because I didn't want to stop too soon, even though somehow I got behind the wheel and was getting pelted with slush from the tire. Suddenly, as I kept going I realized that no one else was pushing, and the truck was speeding up!
In a grand effort not to get dragged off down the street, I let go--and promptly crashed headlong into a nice, cold puddle of freshly melted ice.
I jumped up hastily before anyone could get to me. Freezing cold water tends to have that effect on a person. As I stood there a bit dazed, watching the truck weave away with the driver's side door open (was he waving?), I realized that I was still close enough for the final indignity of getting pelted up and down with tire sno-cone as he crawled down the street. I think it took a million years for him to get far enough away that the frozen slush stopped hitting me. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but that was how it felt.
I turned to James and the neighbor with ice decorating my coat, my side soaking from where I fell into the puddle, and my sweatpants soggily clinging to my thigh. I was so glad it was dark. They were both quiet. I said, with as much self-respect as I could muster, "Well I know what I'm going to do right now! I'm going to go inside and change". Silence. I made the doofy mistake of repeating myself, "Yep, I'm going to go into the house and change!" More silence. I don't think either of them knew what to say! "Um, I'm sorry that you're such a dork?" "I wondered how long you'd hold on?" "It was hilarious watching you fall into that puddle?" No, both were too gentlemanly for that.
The walk back to the house felt long, even though it was only about 25 feet. I got inside, freezing cold and wet, but happy in the knowledge that I helped someone. I even was proud of myself for being able to help push a truck.
My arm muscles were a little sore yesterday, but they got even more sore today. I figured it was just from them getting some exercise that they needed badly. But tonight my shoulder started hurting a bit. That's when I realized that I have a bit of light bruising on my left tricep.
My muscle soreness wasn't from my heroics. It was from the magnificent show I put on for anyone who was staring out of their window when they should have been outside helping. I shall call it, "The Art of Ice Diving". I hope there is no repeat performance. I'm sure those who witnessed this spectacular spectacle would agree that once was enough.