Honey I Sunk the Truck

My guys have a thing for fishing. I have never been able to understand how anyone could find sitting in a boat all day drowning worms to be such a thrill but they just love it, especially my son Ryan. They talk about fishing, they watch TV shows about fishing, they subscribe to magazines about fishing and if they aren’t actually fishing then they‘re making plans to go fishing. From the time the boys were old enough to hold a rod their dad has been taking them fishing. The guys even have a ritual they follow for their expeditions. They pack a cooler full of drinks and snacks, they load more gear than they could use in a month, they hook the boat to the truck and off they go. A day of fishing for them is more or less uneventful and I know when they get back that I am going to hear all the stories of the one that got away or the deer they saw drinking at the water’s edge so I normally feign interest while I think about painting the ceiling. Yes these fishing excursions are by and large routine or they were until the day I got the call.

“Honey, everything’s fine”. (When someone opens a phone conversation like this it’s never a good sign.)
" I need you to come down to the lake.” (Stomach drops and hands begin to shake.)
“There’s been a little incident” (WHERE’S RYAN?!!!)
"We’ve sunk the truck” WHAT??!!
“Where’s Ryan?!”
“He’s standing here, he’s fine. We need you to come down here.” (Sigh of relief flecked with impending exasperation)

Needless to say I made the trip in record time, all the while thinking about locating a tow truck to pull them out of the mud, and how much it was going to cost, but when I pulled into the parking lot there stood two of the sorriest looking people I had ever set eyes on. Then I glanced around for the truck so I could estimate the damage but I didn’t see it. What I did see was a boat floating about 30 yards off the shore and it looked odd because it was a standing up at an angle with the bow of the boat in the water and the engine in the air, but the truck was nowhere in sight. So I the asked them, “Fellows, where’s the truck?” It was then that I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the men donning scuba gear as I heard Ryan say, “Mom, do you see that boat out there? That's our boat and the truck is under it.”

Yessiree Bob, the dynamic duo had done it again! Sitting under about 20 feet of water acting as an anchor for the boat was the truck. I listened to them interrupt each other with details of what happened, while I sat and watched the divers from the Paintsville Rescue Squad disappear into the water. I listened as they explained how they were getting ready to launch the boat and the truck jumped out of gear. And while they were theorizing about how it would have been worse if the boat hadn't kept it from going farther in and how lucky we were that there wasn’t an oil spill, I watched as the waterlogged Chevy pickup was slowly towed back onto the shore.

For normal people the story would end here with the demise of the family pickup truck, but we are not dealing with normal people. As I watched the water slow from a stream to a steady trickle beneath the saturated truck, they were devising a plan to dry it out and drive it home.

This is where things get a bit foggy for me because I think I must have gone into some sort of disaster overload. By the way, did I mention that I was eight months pregnant at the time? I don’t remember how or where they got the wires, the distributor cap and the spark plugs. I don’t remember them draining the fluids and replacing them but I do remember the grating sound as they cranked the engine and my astonishment when the truck actually caught and started. You would have thought by the smug look on their faces that they had just caught the biggest fish in the lake. Of course this look lasted all of about two minutes because it was then the truck caught fire! You should have seen them as they scurried to find something to help them throw sand onto the flames which were lapping up from the engine but at least they didn’t panic to the point that they drove the truck back into the water. So with the same patience and blind determination they have always shown for fishing, General Disaster and Major Catastrophe finally got the sopping, creaking, smelly pickup back on the road and pointed home.

Not only did they get that old truck running again but they named it the Titanic. They drove it for five years after they reeled it in and pulled it back onto dry ground. That old truck was eventually sold and about two years ago I thought I saw it chugging down US 23. You know I do have to give them credit because that old blue truck was the largest thing they ever pulled out of that lake, but they didn’t let it get away.

©Diana Meade May 2005