The very first road trip that involved my new mother-in-law, I decided to impress her by taking her for a ride down a trail in my SUV. You have to understand – I can’t impress the in-laws with brains, wealth, Hollywood good looks, mechanical know-how, a sharp business mind, an angelic singing voice, minty fresh breath or any of that traditional stuff. I have to resort to more unorthodox things like, you know. Driving through the woods and stuff.

It was way the hell up north in St. Agatha. The trail started at the top of a hill and presumably, wound back down to sea level. We never got a chance to find out for sure. I got the relatively dainty Sportage stuck almost immediately.

It was on a muddy elbow of a trail that narrowed all at once. One moment we were driving forward, the next we were not. The tires were spinning and mud was kicking up everywhere.

My name is Mark and I married your daughter. Think you can help me push?

The mother-in-law and I had to push so Corey could take over driving. Corey had to do the driving because the only way off the trail was by going in reverse. One of my many deficiencies, you see, renders me entirely incapable of driving backwards.

So, we pushed for 10 minutes from the back and then tried from the front. Mud sprayed everywhere. Gobs of it fell from the sky, into our hair, down our shirts, you name it, mud was everywhere. A couple on a four-wheeler drove past us and advised that we were idiots to have a street vehicle on that trail. That was all the help they provided.

It took nearly 90 minutes to get out of those woods. It happened only because Corey possesses some freaky ability to drive backwards up hill at very fast speeds.

We were sweaty. We were muddy. We were late for a family reunion.

No, really. Quite late. In order to get over there, we had to rush back to camp and wash up in a lake. Aren’t I awesome?

That was five years ago. At the start of this summer, I got my dual sport motorcycle sunk up to the seat on a muddy trail in Topsham. Night was falling fast. The coyotes were out. Traditional methods of extricating a mired rear tire failed. So I used my Mulligan: I called my wife and father-in-law to come out and help me pluck the bike from the quicksand. In doing so, I gave them bad trail directions and pretty much landed them in a swamp.

Admit it: you wish I’d married YOUR daughter.

But my stories are nothing, really. Inconvenient and mildly embarrassing, nothing more. It’s not like I was out to protect the public, in town for a funeral, in a car wash or on a golf course.

The snowmobile version of a helping hand

Daniel Tanguay, 37, Auburn

“Got a 4-wheel drive Explorer several years back and was bored after work one winter day. Thought that the miles of trails in our wonderful Maine woods were for four wheeling and snowmobiling. I soon found out that the ski-do crowd aren’t that friendly or helpful, and you’re not supposed to drive a vehicle down those trails.

“Driving down the road in Minot I saw the entrance to a snowmobile trail and decided that it seemed like a good idea to check it out. I had wanted to take the wife and another couple to do something outdoors that weekend and this seemed perfect.

“I proceeded down the trail, which was just wide enough for me to drive down. Around a mile into it I thought that I should start looking for a place to turn around. Another mile in and I found one. The intersecting trail was roomy enough to turn around, so I turned in. What I did not know was the snow was covering a deep ditch and I backed right on to it and began to sink in.

“The harder I tried to get out the more I was stuck. Finally after a half-hour I saw a snowmobiler coming down the trail. “At last some help,” I proclaimed to the animals that had gathered to watch my plight. The man on the ski-do just cruised by and flipped me the bird. Strange, I thought, I had always heard stories of these people helping others. Not long after another and the same reaction. Then another and another.

“What the (insert expletive here), I thought. Then finally someone stopped just long enough to tell me that I was a – well, let’s just call it a ‘donkey’ – and he was calling the warden. Now I am starting to worry and call anyone I know that may have a winch, cause I am obviously in deep and on my own.

“Luckily, there was one kind gentleman that stopped and said he would “see if the groomer will pull you out, but it’s probably going to cost you.” At this point I’ll pay just about any amount, just get me out of this mess.

“An hour later and towards dark here comes the trail groomer, who made me suffer and sweat it out for a few before agreeing to help me for a donation to his club of $80 and a promise I would never come back. No worries there, this will never happen again. Now those who know about the ‘incident’ refer to me as ‘Dora the Explorer.’ I can’t wait for their memories to start failing so I can forget about it.”

Somebody boil some water!

Mary K. Burpee Sargent, 41

“My husband got his pickup stuck on an icy back road when I was 8 1/2 months pregnant. With little chance of a sanding truck coming by anytime soon, we tried everything we could to get some traction. My husband said that we just needed some ballast. I said, ‘I’m pushing 200 pounds here, where do you need me?’ So, I sat on the back wheel well and we were out in a jiffy.”

Stop! Police!

Anonymous cop. For obvious reasons.

“As a young, rookie cop with one of Maine’s larger departments, I was tasked with the overnight shift during one of our infamous blizzards. A particular public building in my sector was known for being burglarized frequently. So checking around it with the police cruiser was routine procedure and a mandatory duty. But my youth and inexperience were working against me when I failed to realize that keeping the cruiser mobile and in one piece was a duty that superseded a building check.

“The building had a single lane, paved way around it. Toward one rear corner that path dipped significantly and became a perfect spot for the snow to collect more deeply than in other spots. As I slowed to go around the corner, having to come to a near stop, forward motion ceased. And the rear tires proceeded to start spinning with no means of gaining traction. The accumulated snow was now pressed to the frame of the car.

“The reserve officer who I was riding with concurred with my idea to try to rock the car back and forth, alternating the automatic transmission between “Drive” and “Reverse.” This can work well when you can point the vehicle in a straight direction. But the results get darker when you have to turn the front wheels sharply in order to make a corner at the same time. And that is when things went from bad to worse.

“Around about the time that I was dropping the shifter to “Drive” for about the 10th time, there was suddenly just the revving of the engine; no spinning tires and no forward motion whatsoever. The car’s transmission, probably tired already, had given up the ghost. I now knew that I would not only have to embarrass myself with a radio call for assistance (cell phones were not yet popular or affordable), but I was also going to have to answer to a pretty hefty repair to departmental property.

“Now I’d like to say that I was able to eat my humble pie at that point and walk away with my tail between my legs. But the troubles just grew deeper, no pun intended. What should have been a simple tow job for one of the local wrecker companies did not go quite that smoothly.

“The wrecker operator had to set up near the front of the building to keep from getting his own vehicle mired in the wet, heavy snow. I would estimate that 20 to 30 feet of steel cable had to be run from the wrecker to the front of the police car. I was told to leave the car in neutral, not that the transmission would have given any resistance, and steer the car to safety as it was pulled by the winch.

“The responding sergeant positioned himself between the wrecker and the cruiser while the procedure was executed. He was motioning to the wrecker operator, who was a distance away, to keep winching. He was looking toward the wrecker, however, as the front of the cruiser was nearing him. A vision of the winched vehicle knocking him over and burying him under it flashed in my brain. I panicked and applied some brake.

“Now any Mainer can tell you that a vehicle in motion on a slippery surface will tend to go in the straightest path when the rubber tires are no longer allowed to turn. Unfortunately the path of the cable was at such the right angle that the direction of least resistance was toward the sharp, solid stone corner of the building that I had been attempting to serve and protect. The cruiser made contact with that corner just in front of the driver’s door. The building won.

“Wishing that I had taken the night off, I suggested to the sergeant that he finish steering the car to the wrecker. This also aided in assuring that he was no longer in harm’s way.

“As the years progressed, I became wise to the fact that our snow storms are not to be taken lightly. Not to mention that a grizzled veteran will tell you that there is no need to check a building in a heavy snow when there is no indication in the fresh snow that anyone has preceded you either on foot or in a vehicle. Because, though they would like to sometimes, burglars can’t fly. And their vehicles might just be as susceptible to the pitfalls as a rookie cop’s patrol car.”

Are ashes and dust any good for traction?

Allison Stewart, Madison

“I have a Subaru and I’m pretty confident in her 4-wheel-drive abilities. This winter, I was in Jackman for a funeral (RIP Grandma!) and we got snowed in pretty good. Well, my car was parked on the wrong side of a three-foot snowbank, but I have a Subaru so it was OK, right?

“I set in reverse and gun it. Thought I made it all the way through so I let off. Wrong! I was teetering in the middle of the snowbank with the rear end of my car off the ground.

“To make matters worse, my cousin from North Carolina had to tow me out. North Carolina! What the hell is he doing with tow ropes in the first place?

“We all got a good laugh. I stopped bragging about my 4-wheel-drive that day.”

A keg would have provided ample weight

Bonnie Lee, 44, Minot

“Got stuck at Twitchell’s Airport, looking for a party. Literally up past my doors. The party of about eight people came out, hooked me up to a truck and pulled me out backwards. Ran out of gas while in the mud, the suction kept pulling me back in. Finally got out. It took a long time.

Should have used her Mulligan

Pattie Reaves, 25, Lewiston

“One day, I was working at Swan Lake State Park as a lifeguard and it was a slow day, so I was motoring around in a golf cart picking up trash.

“I was too lazy to get out of the golf cart to pick up trash. Yes, I’m really bad. So I tried to take it around the picnic tables out on the point, where there is not a lot of space and lots of ruts and roots. And I got the golf cart stuck.

“After a lot of heaving and hoing, I went up to get my boss, who brought down the John Deere riding lawn mower to tow it out. We got it out – but then the lawn mower got stuck on another root.

“So Rich (my boss) went up and got a Honda tractor – one of those mini fork lifts. And he got that lawn mower out, but in the process, the Honda got stuck out on the point.

“So then he brings down the Dodge 4×4 to get the Honda out, and in the process, we wedge it pretty well between two (relatively tall) pine trees. It’s been about four hours since I got the stupid golf cart stuck.

“In the end, Rich ended up having to cut the tree to get the Honda out. And I lost my golf cart privileges for the rest of the summer.

“I’m not sure if that story is funny or just sad.”

Don’t forget to scrub behind the ears

Ronda Carbonneau, Lewiston

“I got stuck in the car wash years ago. My husband and I were both in the car. They used to send this little doohickey with wheels on it under the car to move it along. The doohickey wouldn’t catch, so we were stuck.

They yelled, ‘Put it in neutral!’ They couldn’t hear us reply from inside the car, so my husband rolled down the window and yelled, ‘It’s in neutral!!’ He got soaked with water. It was kind of funny. When we finally got unstuck and rolled out of there, they threw him a towel to dry himself off. We all had a good laugh!”

Stuck in a Pile

Mike Bertrand, 47, Lewiston.

“As a young man, I spent a lot of time riding and racing dirtbikes. On a hot July day, I was blasting around the perimeter of my friend Rick’s corn field, on the outskirts of Lewiston. The twisting, flat, sandy corners were an adrenaline rush at high speeds. I was sliding around a turn in fourth gear, with the back tire spinning wildly. As I looked up to shoot down the straightaway, I saw a huge pile of chicken manure, with no way around. I reacted instinctively and gassed it, preparing to jump off the top of the pile. Much to my dismay, the organic heap was as soft as Jell-O. I penetrated close to 16 feet into the steaming load of Decoster’s best, before coming to a halt.

“The odor made my eyes water. Trying to keep momentum on my side, I quickly jumped off and started pushing through the knee-deep muck, while a 20-foot rooster tail rained down on me. Sweat poured from inside my helmet, as I tried not to inhale the cloud of flies around my head. The suction was incredible, and every ounce of my strength was sapped dragging my Suzuki out of the quagmire.

“The ride home was humiliating. The cloud of flies followed me for miles. I rode up and down every stream I came to, trying to wash the stuff off. At home, I used a gallon of ammonia on my clothes and bike to neutralize the stench. I learned the hard way to steer around obstacles. Now I smile every time I see a sign saying ‘native corn’ at Hannaford, and I wonder if Rick remembers the time I split his manure pile in two.”

Getting unstuck with Don Arel

It’s hard to imagine that anyone knows more about getting stuck and unstuck than Don Arel. It’s what he does, day in and day out, not for business but for fun.

Don is the owner of a site formerly known as All Wheels Off-Road Park in Lewiston. He has seen cars buried in mud literally up to the roof. He has seen them disappear upside down, sideways and nose first into the goo.

One way or another, he gets them out.

How to survive the snow, mud, or sand, he says, depends on your original intentions. If you’re out bombing around in places far off the pavement, you probably know what’s coming. You should probably be prepared.

“The best suggestion I have is to bring a friend with you,” Arel says. “Expect that you’re going to get stuck.”

Keep weight in the back of the car or truck if you anticipate problems. A sturdy tow rope is always good, or a chain, if you have to go that route.

“Chains are more dangerous,” Arel says. “They can snap and cause a lot of damage.”

If you’re trying to pull your wife’s hybrid out of the goo (we won’t ask why you were driving the wife’s hybrid in that swamp to begin with) you don’t necessarily need a tank to get it done.

A tow rope – or come-along or ratchet strap – is really just providing an assist as you wrestle your beast out of the mud.

“With a tow rope, it stores up the kinetic energy,” Arel says. “That energy breaks the suction of the mud. All of a sudden, you see the car rolling again.”

Remember that time you stumbled into the bog and your boot was yanked right from your foot? That’s mud suction at work. It’s just one of many ways the nasty stuff has of keeping you down.

“It’s not just that you lost traction. If that’s all it is, you’ll come right out of there,” Arel says. “You need to look underneath the vehicle to see what you’re up against. A lot of the time, you’re stuck on something, a root or a rock. You need to jack up the vehicle before you can start trying to pull it out.”

So you don’t have a burly friend in the passenger seat or a winch in the trunk. You’re stuck in the crap and all by yourself. You can do it, hot shot.

“Find dead wood or rocks, something to get under the tires,” Arel says. “If you have ratchet straps, those will provide tension. You can move the vehicle a little, reposition the strap and keep going at it. Sometimes, you have to move an inch at a time.”

Think twice before you drive anything into black mud, unless you are really craving a trip down to the center of the earth. The dark stuff is typically part of a peat bog and the mud is not just dirt and water. It’s decomposing critters and vegetation. It’s extra deep, extra slick and defies conventional methods of vehicle extraction.

For snow, a lot of the same principles apply, Arel says. A lot of drivers keep sand or kitty litter in their trunks to sprinkle under the tires in slick conditions.

“They’ll get you by in a pinch,” he says.

But just in case, don’t forget to have your hulking friend riding along. You may not like him all that much, but the brute can push a car like nobody’s business.

Copy the Story Link