Fishing is for the birds.

Today I took my little cousin Alex fishing at an old coal mining strip, where there are several good ponds. We had to go through a very deep mud hole to get there. We fished a while, I showed Alex the ropes and then we left for another pond.

After deciding the fish weren't biting in the other pond today, we went back to the other pond. On the way, a few fourwheelers were coming up on me, and I motioned for them to pass. They wouldn't so we went ahead and tried to cross the puddle again.

It didn't happen.

It had rained since we had last went through it and the mud had softened up quite a bit. So we bottomed out and I was stuck. I got out and looked over to the passing fourwheelers who were now stopped. They came over and a man (who I believe said his name was John) tried to help me get out. He pushed as I drove, then deciding that this wasn't fair, I asked his wife to drive my dad's Trailblazer.

So we pushed, and pulled, and put rocks under the tires, but it's not much use when the car is actually bottomed out and not just stuck in mud.

So we would push the thing one direction and it would slide over a little, and then back one way. The last time I pushed it, she cut the wheels really sharp and threw mud all over me. From toe to head, I had mud on me. I knew I would have to sit in dad's leather, and take the pain of knowing how many times I would have to clean the car (after 4 washings to the exterior and one to the inside it was decent).

This was all after I had just fussed at Alex for putting his dirty feet in the car seat. One day I'll learn that karma is real.