...My Bad

I woke up today the pressure of 35 pounds of Sheltie standing on my lower back making odd squeaking noises, poodles curled in the crook of my shoulder and on my head. All was right in the world.
The sun was starting to peek over the horizon, and I was getting my game plan in order: What to work on with each horse, who to work first, remember to bring the carrots for Tilly.

After all, it was only a partly cloudy day. The play of sunlight on the fresh snow was energizing. Who cares that it's ten above out side? Scott and bacon did their morning laps through the snow (until Bacon got an iceball in his toes and had to call a timeout) while Tempi rushed out, took care of business, then hurried back to my nice warm recently vacated bed. She has her priorities.

The School House at Dawn

Mocha brewed, I hopped into the truck (which had been conveniently parked in the barn, so I didn't even have to sweep the snow/ ice off of it) and slowly made my way towards the barn. The roads were covered with a thin layer of snow, so I opted to take the back route to the barn and avoid the hill near town. Why take the trickier route? I reasoned.

Why indeed.

As I turned on my new found 'easy route', I noticed that there was no snow. I could see the blacktop. Right decision I smugly thought to myself, easing up to a whopping 35 mph. That's right. I was flying.

Two more turns and then I'll be there.  Already I was going over my plan of attack for this morning.
Make the first turn. No traffic makes the drive easy and fairly stress free...

I'm going maybe 15 mph (hey, I just made the turn and no one was around to judge me for how slow I was going) when I feel the rear of my poor truck slide. I tried to correct it (Turn in to the slide, don't stomp the brakes) but I slid right on to what must have been the slickest patch of road in America.
Me and my truck did the worlds slowest triple lutz ever completed on ice.  We were moving slow enough that I thought that I'd come to a complete stop as soon as I ricochet off the little snow lip, an then I'd just have a good story for the rest of my day.

Obviously I underestimated the momentum of a 5000 pound vehicle on ice....

So glad dad isn't here to give me crap....

At least the front tires are still on the road!

But now the truck won't start up again, since it turned itself off in the 'crash'. Ok, ok... think! There's a fuel shutoff somewhere! That must be it. Now all I have to do is find the switch... to the owner's manual I go!
OK, found the page. With a picture. But I still cant find the switch....
Right about here, a nice older gentleman stopped and asked if I needed help. Umm, yes. He gave me the number of a towing company and told me to mention his name (you guessed it, Dan).
Perfect! I'll ask the wrecker where the switch is!

Turns out, I forgot to take the truck out of gear...
The wrecker guy (also named Dan. I wish I could be making this up!) gave me the most pitying look when he told me that the truck has to be in Park to start it. Thank goodness I didn't tell him I'm employed as an engineer...Pretty sure UMR is on their way to collect that degree from me, as I exhibited exactly zero engineering or mechanical know-how. Useless...

So I paid my $60 "Driving like a dipshit" tax, and was on my way!

I guess it wasn't quite the beautiful morning I expected.....

Oy vey.

The Best Laid Plans...

As we all know, the best laid plans can and will go so very very wrong. Today was one of such days. I went out to pattison with Sam with the hopes of riding a few horses, cleaning the barn, maybe taking some more measurements for my little project (it's a surprise!). But no... I rode Sonnet while Sam worked RC for a little while. Since Sonnet only works for about half an hour, she was done way before RC even broke a sweat. I took her back to the barn, then went over to check on what dad was doing (since he lit a huge fire). And lo and behold, the Wimp Truck is stuck.
I can't believe he drove across the field! It still has standing water! And what does he do? Before I can even voice my objections Larry is driven across the bridge as a tow vehicle. All I can see is the slow motion replay of Larry sinking in the El Paso sand..... So I managed to talk Dad out of driving Larry down by the Wimp Truck to try to tow it out in favor of using bricks under the tires (just in case Larry gets stuck too). I figured that at least this way we still had one vehicle that was usable... After an hour of crawling in the mud, rocking the Wimp Truck back and forth and back and forth over the bricks, the tires just got too slick to catch on anything. Go figure. The wimp truck has little city tires with no tread to speak of so even with the bricks, the tires were so slick they were just spinning. At that point, we gave up. Let it sit and dry for a day or so, maybe it will be better then.

So My dad and I got in Larry (he was driving). We turn the truck around and dooooown Larry goes. Stuck. Are you kidding me? This is what I was worried about. It was also a classic "I told you so" moment (but common sense prevailed so I refrained). So we carefully walked Larry out of the field using 12' boards lined up under the tires.... all the way to the gate. What a day...

Which leads us to day 2 (today). After a longer then anticipated trip to the vet for shots and coggins. Today it was me and mom who tackled the truck. It took up probably an hour to get the truck out of yesterdays hole with the clever addition of a jack and boards. I was pushing while mom drive... and as soon as the tires caught she sped off leaving me sputtering in the mud and watching as she sunk it 20 ft later. Oh goody. Another hour passes as we attempt to rock the truck onto something solid, this time using the aluminium ramps we have to get the lawnmower into the truck bed as solid stabilizers. It seemed to work, until the right rear tire was too bald to climb onto the tiny incline the ramp presented. So we changed the tire (while threatening to do a drive by of the original Wimp Truck's owner and fling the bald tire into his yard). with the hopes that the spare would have more tread. It didn't. After a grand total of five hours of crawling in the mud and one sprained wrist later, the Wimp Truck is free!

Dad owes me a milk shake.