The Last Good Ride
By James Brown
We drove towards the entrance to the dirt
road my coke bottle slid under my feet; I jumped to get it as Adam hit the
emergency brake and sent me sideways into the door. "Bastard!" I
barked and held the coke bottle that was nothing but fizz out the window.
The truck had a brown vinyl and was very loud due to the new speakers and
stereo. Adam sat in the driving seat not paying any attention to me as he
maneuvered around some rocks to get to the course. The day was warm, unusual
for fall but nice all the same. Adam enjoys driving fast, always has, so he
takes off down the dusty trail. I watch the road get consumed by the sides
of the cab waiting for the next turn to throw me against the door. Adam
lowers the radio to hear the sound of his truck. I watch to see where we're
going next. Looking forward I see a dip in the road as I casually grab the
handle above the door to ensure my safety but I begin to talk to keep from
looking fearful. The truck falls forward and my stomach propels into my neck
holding me from throwing up or even to breath. As I feel the bounce of the
back tires I know we are on safe ground. The dust is gathering behind us and
the road looks very dry. My hair and face is coated with dust which makes my
hair feel patchy and dead. As we come to the trophy truck course on the back
side I see that a little rain has stayed on this side of the mountain. The
dusty road has turned to wet Virginia red mud . Pounding down the road we
see puddle after puddle of stagnant muddy water all settled and waiting to
be rousted from their tranquility. Adam slams into the first one and water
is thrown onto the hood. Our speed stays the same as the windshield wipers
smear the mud over the entire windshield. Buissssh! As we hit the next one
with barely enough time to see it coming. Seeing a little better from the
open window I see a huge pond like area that has to be 3 feet deep. I warn
Adam who reluctantly slows down to see this 'Loch Ness' as he put it. Both
of us step out to see any chance of this being accomplished. Adam picks up a
stick and dips it into the water to check for depth. "Nice, I can make
this!" Adam says with a devilish look on his face. I reply with
"Why the hell not?" We drive back about 70 feet to get enough
running speed to clear the water or just to give us enough momentum to push
through it without sucking water back up the engine. Reeeeerrrr! The engine
screeches as it changes from one gear to another. I can hear each gear
change as it happens and into the forth gear I see the water coming at us. I
brace myself for the launch that hadn't worried me until this very second.
Looking out I see the mud rush at the window trying to find a way to get at
me. Trying to get back at everyone who has ever used these roads for
pleasure, thrown trash or cut down trees. The mud came around the windshield
and slapped me in the ear. Throwing mud past my face and clinging to the
shoulder of Adam's jacket as he was bombarded with chunks from his window.
The truck lifts out of the water like the nose of a submarine consumed by
the stagnant mess of the water it pushes forward until it is completely out
of the hole. Standing in front of the truck it looks like a commando whose
deep in the jungle, mud rubbed around his eyes, entire body darkened by the
environment. The truck sits there in the middle of this deserted road
drooling out dark water as it pants for breath. Adam inspects the truck
fully before getting in and asking, "You wanna do that again?"
Virginia
red mud is said to stick to anything and it will eat its way into some
mechanical devices.