The Kings of Stuck-dom

This piece first appeared in March 12th, 2009 edition of the Pioneer Tribune, a weekly newspaper from Manistique, Michigan. Please visit their website: http://www.pioneertribune.com/

A couple of weeks ago I managed to get stuck in a snow drift while trying to make it down the driveway of a remote cabin that friends of mine own. I was well aware of the high probability of a situation like this and I was prepared for it. I had brought a “come-along” winch with me that I could use to pull myself out. I also knew that my shovel was at the cabin if I needed it to do a bit of digging.

I seriously dislike getting stuck, and getting unstuck I find even less appealing. Getting unstuck usually involves a lot of work in deep snow or deep mud. Or both.

I spent a good part of the first half of my life around two giants in the field of getting stuck.

Getting stuck in the snow or mud and sometimes sand was a true art form for my father. He was the Michelangelo of getting stuck. If there was a way to get stuck somewhere, my dad would find it.

He would manage to get stuck in places that were nearly impossible to get stuck in. It would take a true master to get a vehicle stuck while it is going downhill on dry pavement. I think my dad could pull it off.

My dad owned a series of Jeeps over the years, and Jeeps have four-wheel-drive, and four-wheel-drive means that you can go anywhere. My dad would frequently take me out on rides in the woods. It was great getting out and seeing the sites of the old logging camps on the Yellow Dog Plains in northern Marquette County. He grew up in these camps, and he told me stories about the characters who lived and worked there.

He would also show me all of the best places to get stuck. They were always 100 miles away from the nearest anything. It wasn’t until I reached adulthood that I realized that my dad brought me on these expeditions because I was cheaper and easier than walking to the nearest phone and calling for a tow truck.

When the Jeep started to show signs of losing forward momentum, that was the signal for my dad to really give it some gas and get the tires spinning. That little trick would assure us of getting stuck. Then, to make sure that we were really stuck, he would proceed to rock the Jeep backwards and forwards, all the while spinning the tires, which had the end result of burying the Jeep up to its axles in whatever we were stuck in. This would be the point where I would get to spend some quality time with a shovel.

In early adulthood, my good friend Mark replaced my dad as the king of stuck-dom. Mark didn’t get stuck in places that you shouldn’t get stuck. He got stuck in places that you shouldn’t even be driving. He would say things like, “I think we can make it across that river” or “I just want to see how far we can make it through that swamp.”

These may have been reasonable ideas if we were driving a monster truck of some sort. It may have even been remotely reasonable if we had been driving one of my dad’s Jeeps.

But Mark usually drove things like old Ford Pinto station wagons, Honda Civics and Buick Skylarks. These cars were marginally acceptable as road vehicles, let alone off-road vehicles.

Whenever Mark attempted one of these “see how far we can make it” ideas, it almost always lead to one conclusion: once you have gone as far as you can make it and you can’t go any farther, that usually meant that you were stuck.

Only one time do I recall being able, using human power alone, to extricate a vehicle that Mark had managed to get stuck. I do recall walking great distances, on more than one occasion, to seek the assistance of a more capable vehicle.

I have learned two things about getting stuck from my dad and Mark. I learned that I don’t like it and I have learned to avoid it. I had been successful at avoiding stuck-dom for at least a dozen years.

When I did get stuck recently I kept my senses, and at the first sign of loss of forward motion, I stopped. I knew that no matter what I did, I wouldn’t be going any farther, and any attempt to do so would just make things worse.

With my shovel, I dug a little bit of snow out from around the tires and from under the vehicle. In a few minutes I was free of the drift, and as I was backing out of the driveway toward the main road I could hear the voices of my dad and Mark trying to talk me into trying to go just a little farther.

It was all I could do to resist the temptation to try.