Driving past Lloyd's house on Friday, it seemed that something was in the works, since they had a giant digger in the field, digging the mud pits even deeper. On our way home yesterday, we first heard the roar of engines, then saw the field on the corner full of parked cars, and knew some kind of event was happening. A mud bog. The mud bog is apparently a favorite rural pastime, occurring all around the United States. From what I have observed at our neighbors' house, a lot more preparation seems to go into the thing than the actual bogging itself. The vehicles are constantly propped up on cinder blocks, and the boggers are always working on them, for days and weeks at a time, the bog is constantly being flooded and dug out, and then the actual bogging, the driving of some big, loud truck through the mud, takes a couple of minutes. That is, unless they get stuck or the truck overheats and quits. Then they sit for quite a while, futilely spinning their tires, waiting for something bigger and more powerful to pull them out. We parked on the road, like many other passers-by, to gape at this spectacle of rural entertainment.
In the left edge of the picture, you can see a Jeep with its hood up. This car had overheated and quit. It sat motionless for quite a while. The orange truck is in the process of pulling the brown truck out of the mud where it got stuck.
The orange truck was unable to pull out the brown truck, so the big boys had to come out. Big blue was able to get the job done, but only after the overheated Jeep was removed from the scene so it didn't get damaged in the towing process.
Equal opportunity fun! Even people on crutches can bog.
Doesn't that look like fun?
Upon leaving our safe parking spot on the road to head for home, we noticed a car turn the corner behind us from the direction of the bog. To be safe, we turned the wrong way and didn't drive to our house, because we were scared we were being followed by Lloyd's friends. They probably didn't like it that so many people in nice cars were stopping on the road, pointing and laughing at them, so it wouldn't surprise me if they were following people to beat them up or do some kind of damage to their vehicles. Also, Lloyd the bogger does not get along well with people who live on our road. It is a different world from Lloyd's, just a half mile away. Well-kept houses and people walking, jogging and riding bikes in clean clothes, not caked with mud. As our neighbor, the man who in hindsight very unfortunately sold Lloyd his property, would say, "Lloyd, the people who live on the river, they have a little bit more money, and they think your mud bog is stupid." This conversation occured after a mud bog years ago, during which Lloyd and his friends drove their big trucks onto property that didn't belong to Lloyd and tore up the land with their big tires.
Viewing this bog and its poorly dressed participants with bad haircuts took me right back to my school days, when people who looked just like them (maybe these same people were there yesterday) used to harass my friends and I, calling us lesbians, breaking and mutilating our things, and committing other forms of abuse. If these people weren't such cruel jerks, maybe I wouldn't laugh at them and how stupid I think they are. Maybe I wouldn't point and take pictures which I plan to broadcast to the world and write sarcastic things about. In the end, I am no better than them, laughing at them and making fun of their silly loud trucks because I just can't understand what they enjoy about doing what they do.
Haha. What luck. I am stuck stuck stuck.