Smoke on the water . . .
and mud on my truck!
Sing it with me now! Buh buh buuuuuh, buh buh buh buuuuuuh . . . .
Okay, snapping back to the present and not the sixties, or was it early seventies?
Against a negative feeling, I agreed to take Termite duck hunting at a different place this morning. Last night, I told him more than once I did not want to go. I did not stand my ground because I just didn’t want to face the cold, so I thought.
It was more like a wild duck chase than a duck hunt, except the boat never made it into the water. As we bounced along the make-shift road, which got soggier as we went, I thought we might be in trouble. When my front tires hit a slough, I knew we were in trouble.
No, my Chevy is NOT a four-wheel drive. She sank, and honey, she sank good. I ranted and I raved and I raved and I ranted some more–as mad at myself as I was at Termite.
Mad at myself for not checking out this launch in the daylight and for letting him pressure me last night into making the trip this morning.
Mad at him for not realizing how serious this situation could become–he had to remain cool in front of his new buddy.
In the cold, pre-dawn darkness, we unhooked the boat trailer and pushed it 50 yards back down that rutted road and off into some grass on somewhat more solid ground. Then they found things to put under my tires, so I could get a grip while they pushed from the front. And I can honestly say, this is one time I would have much rather been in a cold duck blind than where I was.
Once they had the boat hooked up to the truck again, I turned to the friend, speaking as calmly as I could.
“Sorry, buddy, but this hunt is officially over before it began.”
Let’s just say, I don’t think any other boy would have wanted to be in the passenger seat of my truck on that ride home.
In tones amazingly like a banchee . . .
“And one more thing SON! Next time I tell you I don’t want to go hunting because I have a bad feeling, TAKE MY WORD FOR IT. Don’t keep bugging me about it. Take NO as NO and let it go. I swear, son if you don’t become a lawyer, I think you missed your calling. ” *
“Oh wow, Mom, look at that!” (*see what I mean?)
“HAND ME MY CAMERA, AND DON’T TRY TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT, SON. YOU ARE NOT OFF THE HOOK YET!”
“Try it without the flash, Mom.”
“Stop with the diversions. You’re still gonna rinse all the mud off my truck when we get back to the camp AND you owe me a truck wash.”
Lesson Number 1009 I have learned being Termite’s mom:
Never, under any circumstances, believe him when he says,
“I’m sure, Mom, let’s just go.”
Muddy but (somewhat) wiser,
BW
ABSOLUTLEY BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Never mind the “Law Practice”, with the artistic eye he has, he may be the next C.C. Lockwood!
Hope you made sure he washed the under carriage of the truck. LOL
Oh yeah…what was that (opening sentence) tune? I can’t seem to put a name to it.
The boy is good! He has persuasion and distraction down to an art form. LOL!!
I hate getting stuck. You get out of hole, wash the vehicle, wash the vehicle, wash……well you know what I am saying. And even though you leave half of a hill of mud in the car wash, you think you are finished and take off down the road and HUGE clumps of mud go flying out from under the frame. Then, the people behind you make your ears burn and you want to sink down into the seat until you are totally invisible.
Spectacular shots my friend. Definitely worth a bit of mud on da boots and da boat and da truck. I taught those 13 year olds for a good number of years and had a lot of time to ponder their strange, usual, and mysterious ways. And while I wanted each one of them to be successful, I got pretty good at picking the winners. Ya got yourself a winner, BW. And it sure beats spending time bayouself.
ROFL! I have been there s-o-o-o many times, BW! West Virginia is famous for its mud and I’ve been stuck in more places than I like to count-in my 4WD too.
Still for all the hassle, those are some prize-winning photos. I love that boy of yours. He’ll be fine whatever he does because he can see beauty. A lot of people never learn to do that.
Thank you so much, Sue! One week I’m bragging about his tenacity and the next week, I’m complaining. Such are the complexities of mothering such an active kid!
You gonna have to watch termite close. He’s way too smart, way to young. You’re mad, he agrees with you, you’re mad, he shows you the beauty of nature, You’re still mad, He still agrees with you. You make threats of cleaning the truck, he agrees. Completely defusing the immediate threat. I know men who live all their life and never learn. He’s way too smooth. Termite the Ladies Man.
The pictures remind me of camping in my youth.
Get a cheap cable come-along, a length of cable or some chain and throw behind the truck seat. That’s as coonass as the waders being stuffed inverted between the cab and the bed of the truck. None of us were ever rich enough to have one of those sweet store-bought winches on our bumper. Carry a piece of rebar to drive in as a stake to pull to also.
Only took me a couple of times walking 5 miles or so looking for a farmer/rancher with a tractor in the middle of the night. Not to mention some irate mothers.
I’ll see what I can muster up, Goldie! Thanks!
Hey I is back. The ribbon fish master. Phooey on those ladyfish.
did anyone call?
I used to be that farmer with the tractor. Have your money and or booze waiting.
Pix later like midnight.
Wow Wendy! Those shots are beautiful! I’m glad something good came out of the morning. Some of your best shots yet.