As promised, there was much more to follow on the subject of mud ridin'. After all, a topic with such delicate intricacies as the consistency and viscosity of the actual surface on which the action is taken (in simple terms, how gooey is the mud) can't be covered in just one visit; nor can the residue from such forays be cleaned in just one washing.

That's the one thing about mud ridin', however, that makes it a sane pursuit: it all washes out. It's not going to stain your soul or make you take twelve-step treatments. It will, however, make you learn how to walk long distances while muttering over your shoulder "sure, it was just a little mud hole, and, no problem, just hit it harder".

Many years ago, on a wonderful Sunday afternoon, following about four solid days of rain, Marvin, Newton and some other corpulent accomplice loaded up The Dart (remember, the dirt brown, mud gripped, off road warrior wagon?) and decided to see what the woods could offer. It was truly one of those glorious days: the temperature pleasant, the conversation stimulating (about as stimulating as WHEEEE!

YEEEHAW!!

can be), and the roads perfectly sublime in their coating of slime. We slipped and slopped and slid from ditch to ditch, not really knowing where we were headed but deeper into trouble.

Deeper was right. Just as we rounded a curve, there was the creek. Now the creek had always been there, but it was usually about a hundred yards away, and it usually didn't cover the road. As we sat in our quandary, Newton decided that the only way to properly assess the situation was from the outside.

Remember that we've been talking about rain, and water, and the effects it has on dirt? Newton seemed to forget those little problems, especially the one concerning erosion. It seemed that the mass of running water over the last few days had washed out the ditch to about five feet deep. Newton, being focused on the task at hand (that is, how to make sure we got my car stuck as deeply as possible in the creek), never chanced to glance down as he opened the door to get out. Out unfolded the leg of a six foot, eight inch tall creature and the first step…

Was a doozy. It seemed that I had parked just a little close to the edge of the road, and when Newton stepped out, he continued stepping out into about a five-foot deep pothole in the ditch. It was quite a site to watch this long and lanky creature disappear from sight in one fell swoop. What was even more fun was to watch him try to scramble out of the hole, considering the sides of his prison were slippery, slimy red mud. We finally, after regaining our breath from laughing, drug Newton from his trap, and then, in the greatest show of friendship, helped him wash off by tossing him in the creek.

Now that's what I call good, (sorta) clean fun