Cruiser Bruiser

It started out to be such a nice day. I was staying home and finishing up a story that I had been working on and drinking hot tea. Well after a few cups of hot tea, I just happened to be in the bathroom when the phone rang.

I thought, oh well, whoever it was could just leave a message. I listened as the phone continued to ring but no message was left on the machine. No sooner had the phone quit ringing when my cell phone began ringing and playing a bouncy tune. I knew then that it was probably my husband or my son. The men in my family are very persistent.

I had just opened the bathroom door when the phone rang yet again, all of this in a matter of seconds, but this time I picked up the phone.

“Where were you?” my husband asked as if I’d been gone for a week.

“I was in the bathroom,” I explained.

“Well, I’m out here on the farm by the east gate and the truck is stuck in these muddy ruts, you are going to have to come get me. I’ve called the neighbors out here on my cell phone and nobody is home.” he said.

“Bring a chain with you just in case. We might try to pull it out with the Cruiser.”

“With the Cruiser?!” I exclaimed as I pictured my little white PT Cruiser buried beneath a mound of Missouri mire with a RIP sign in front of it never to be seen again.

“Where is the chain?” I asked.

“Out in the shed somewhere.” He replied.

I hung the phone up, got dressed, (yes I was still wearing pajamas) and headed out to the shed.

“How can a man who keeps such meticulous records have a shop that looks like this,” I thought as I wondered if my tetanus shots were up to date and why was I wearing sandals?

I looked all around and saw one rusty chain on the floor but it didn’t look heavy enough to pull out a heavy Ford 4 wheel drive truck to me. Finally I noticed that the loader that was off of the tractor was chained to a pole. Did he think it was going to get away? I unhooked it and began unraveling it from around the pole and then the end of it got stuck behind the pole that was so close to the shed wall that it wouldn’t pull out. This may sound easy but this wasn’t a little chain. This thing must have weighed over 50 pounds. I pulled and yanked until finally it came loose and I was looking down as I began carrying and dragging the huge chain across the shed. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain on top of my head and I felt a little woozy. I did have presence of mind enough to duck when I realized that there was a hook dangling from the ceiling of the shed and it was about to hit me again. Not a small hook, we’re talking block and tackle hook here. I’m telling you that shed is a dangerous place. No self- respecting burglar would knowingly enter that shed, not that burglars are self- respecting, but it’s just not safe in there, I thought to myself as I was trying to feel how big the knot was on my head.

I finally staggered out to the Cruiser half pulling and half carrying the chain and I tried to throw it in the back but I found I couldn’t throw a 50-pound chain. Somehow I ended up with two purple pinched places on my fingers, not to mention the rust colored hands. Don’t men ever clean chains or do they just slowly rust away? I didn’t want to get rust all over the steering wheel so I went over to the water hose to wash off my hands. I turned on the water and nothing happened…. oh, great, I thought, is the water off or what? I twisted the nozzle and whoosh! Needless to say more than my hands got washed off. I dripped over to the Cruiser and got in and took off for muddy places.

As I headed over to the east gate, all the while I was watching the farms along the way to see if there was anyone that I knew with a real vehicle bigger than a Barbie car that I might get to help. Wouldn’t you know it, nobody seemed to be around and it was as if everyone had left on purpose just to see if a Cruiser could pull out a pickup truck.

When I got over near the east gate, I saw Mike out there picking up rocks and putting them under the wheels. The only tool he happened to have with him was a pitchfork. You know, it takes a long time to dig holes behind the tires with a pitchfork but I wasn’t about to comment about that at a time like this. I have been married long enough to know when to be quiet.

I still wasn’t really keen on making this Herbie Goes to The Mudhole movie. I had visions of hooking up that chain and me driving off in just part of a PT Cruiser.

However, the moment of truth had come and Mike hooked up the chain. I began pulling and nothing happened.

“Try again, and when I honk go hard!!” Mike instructed.

That time the pick-up truck came out of the ruts and the Cruiser was even fully intact. It was the PT Cruiser version of The Little Engine that Could, which now gives new meaning to the term Cruiser Bruiser!

~ Pamela Perry Blaine ~
© August 2008
pamyblaine@blaines.us

About Pamela:  She enjoys writing, music, and country living.  She writes"Pam's Corner" for the local newspaper and many of her writings have been published on the internet as well as in several books.

Pam says, "I have loved music and writing ever since I can remember. I play piano at church and I'm an avid reader. One of my goals is to be able to write for my children and grandchildren so special memories will not be forgotten."  She has a CD entitled "I'll Walk You Home".  If you would like one, they are available by freewill donation.  More information as well as a clip from the CD is on her website at http://blaines.us/PamyPlace.htm

[ By: Pamela Perry Blaine Copyright © 2008 (pamyblaine@blaines.us) -- from Pamela Perry Blaine ]