Stuck in the Mud

“You’re where?” I shouted at Bob over the phone. “Where is the Prairie Christian Training Centre?” I didn’t realize how this call would shape my life.

The late night phone call woke me up from a deep sleep. Marlene, laying next to me, awoke to my loud conversation. Six week old Tony, was sleeping in his bassinette.

“Give me the directions and I’ll be out as soon as I can.” I told Bob.

I turned to Marlene, who was staring at me with wide eyes, “It’s Bob again. Let’s get dressed and go.”

Marlene and I got dressed, packed up Tony and drove off to rescue Bob. He was in another one of his jackpots. It was always good old Brian to the rescue.

***

As usual, Bob was trying to impress some new lady friends, and wanted to show them a great picnic spot in a field near Fort Qu’Appelle. They drove along a dark, lonely road, miles from nowhere. Drizzle started to appear on the windshield of his converted Dodge Maxi Van. Everyone was snug and warm inside, sitting on the green crushed velvet seats, with the matching padded walls. Bob knew how to impress.

“You count twenty telephone poles, and then we turn into the field along the path.” Bob instructed the girls and his one male companion.

“Let me know when you get to twenty. There’s a quiet, secluded spot. It’ll stop raining by the time we get there, we’ll get a fire going.” Bob had a way of expressing total confidence in his plans. Anyone who didn’t know Bob would feel comfort from his words.

They must have miscounted, or Bob had the directions wrong, because instead of rattling down a truck path, they drove right into a swamp – stuck in the mud, up to the axles. The engine stalled from the splashing water. Then it started to rain full force - not just a drizzle, but a real downpour.

“You guys stay here, I’ll go get someone to pull us out.” Bob informed his passengers, still expressing the utmost confidence. He wasn’t about to let a little mishap spoil an otherwise perfect evening.

“Where are you going to get help?” Dan, the only other male occupant of the vehicle, quizzed, looking out into total blackness.

“I’ll only be a few minutes. Keep the wine chilled.” More confidence from Bob. Then he sloshed knee deep into the bog, rain pouring off his coat, which he used as a makeshift umbrella. He was out of sight before anyone could ask more questions.

Half an hour of slogging through the wet field, prairie mud clinging to his shoes, he spied a faint light in the distance. He tracked directly towards it. Another half hour and he saw the sign, “The Prairie Christian Training Centre”. The night custodian was not prepared to let a stranger into the premises at that time of night. But silver-tongued Bob convinced them to let him in to make a phone call. The ten dollar donation probably had some influence.

Who do you call in the middle of the night for help? Pick the married guy with kids – he’ll be home.

Marlene, Tony and I had a forty-five minute drive to find Bob and his friends.

Everyone was cold and damp when they all assembled on the dark road. Even in the summer, prairie nights get cold. Somehow they all squeezed into the back seat of our car. Tony was strapped into a his bassinette between Marlene and me in the front, sound asleep, and oblivious to the bizarre events.

We ended up at Bob’s apartment for an impromptu party. Bob, ever the story teller, relayed in minute detail the events that led up to the middle of the night crisis. This would be another story I would have to hear over and over, for years to come.

I can’t even recall who all the people were, but I do recall this being the first time I met Rochelle. She was young, blond, petite, and a single mom, with a 16 month old daughter.

That was the last time I saw Rochelle for several years. I didn’t realize what a fateful night it was.

Who would have ever guessed that thirty years later, Marlene and I would be divorced, Rochelle and I would marry, and travel the world together.

A car breaking down, on a rainy night, somewhere on a dark, lonely road, far from home…who would have ever guessed…

(747 words)

Author's note: for susequent events refer to "Rochelle"