North Carolina: where the trip began · Tennessee and Arkansas: stories · Oklahoma and Texas: drove through · New Mexico: current stop
I left early this morning because there was a storm coming up from Mexico toward Santa Fe. I was trying to leave early in the morning so I could find a place where it was safe to be and work East Coast hours.
The dirt road out of the campground was muddy. The F-150 and camper started sliding into the ditch.
I tried to get myself out with the recovery boards for about 45 minutes before I called insurance to get a tow. I also texted my boss that I had an emergency and didn’t know when I would be able to work that day.
Insurance couldn’t find someone to tow us out, so I started calling tow companies myself. Eventually, after about an hour, the insurance company sent a tow truck.
I spent more than two hours digging in the mud and rain, waiting for the tow guy to show up. The mud was about two inches thick. I was trying to create a clear path for my truck to go, but every time I tried, it kept on slipping. Mud got on my clothes, shoes, and all over the inside of my truck.
While I was digging, I was texting with the tow truck company. He asked me to send pictures of my truck. Then he said, “I didn’t know you also had a camper. I’m only supposed to pull out the F-150. I’m not sure I can pull the camper out.”
I told him, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to pay you no matter what. I just need to get out. I need a receipt, and I’ll deal with the insurance.”
When he showed up in his truck, I said, “I don’t think your truck is going to be able to pull me out.” He said, “You want to bet?” I told him I trusted him.
He hooked me up and tried to pull me onto the road. At that point, my truck slipped and the camper slipped completely into the ditch. He kept trying to pull me up, but couldn’t. He was driving backward while pulling me forward and couldn’t see where the ditch was leveling out. I told him, “If you go roughly another 50 feet, I think the ditch levels with the road and it might be easier to get out.”
After he got us out, I asked him to help me get off the muddy road and onto solid ground before we settled the bill. He pulled the truck and camper about another 400 feet farther to make sure we were on stable road.
Once I was finally on solid ground, I had to walk back and get my recovery boards. Those things normally weigh about 17 pounds each. Covered in mud they felt like 40 or 50 pounds. I dragged them back to the truck.
Once we were back on the road, he asked whether I was going east or west on I-40. I said west. He suggested a gas station around the corner where we could get under cover and avoid getting any wetter.
We went there, and I paid him $280. There was a pothole full of water at the gas station, and I tried to wash as much mud as I could off my recovery boards and my Crocs. I know people must have been looking at me like I was nuts.
From the time this whole thing started until I was finally out, it took about five hours. I was exhausted.
I was supposed to drive to Phoenix after work today.
I took PTO instead and booked an RV hookup spot at a Love’s. Electricity. Water. Dump. A place to park the trailer and stop moving for a while.
The plan now is pretty simple: park the trailer, take what may turn into an hour-long shower, clean myself up, clean some of this mud out of the truck, do laundry, turn on the heat, watch some TV, and call it a day.
Everything I’m wearing is filthy.
The Guy Behind the Desk
