It had been a month since Bamas's truck was fixed but only a few days since we last talked. Her truck was running like new and it was pulling her load with ease unlike it used to do.
As usual, I went to the shop to get started on the days work. First thing I had to get done was an oil change and tire rotation on a '76 Ford Mustang. If I don't get distracted, the job would only take an hour. Opening the hood, I saw one beauty of an engine. The owner really kept his car clean. The Mustang was jet black with two thick, white racing stripes down the middle of the body. Dual tail pipes and a wing made me drool over the machine. In a way, I felt honored to have the chance to work with this perfect vehicle.
As I finished up, I heard a Duramax pull up to the shop. Not thinking about who it could be, I started the engine and revved it to get the oil running through. It sounded better than it looked. I revved it two more times before I turned it off and got out. Not looking up, I walked to the wall to hang the keys on the hook and accidentally walked into Bama.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said quietly.
She laughed, "It's fine." Her attention then drifted from me to the Ford that was sitting idling in the garage. Biting her lower lip, it was obvious that she loved the car.
"She's a beauty, huh?" I said turning to look at the car with her.
"Lets go in my office to talk so you won't get distracted." I lead her into my office and offered her a seat. "So, what are you here for? Is something wrong with your truck?"
"No ma'am. It's running like brand new. What brings me here is that the truck is too clean. I don't want to go to the bog alone and have no one to help me in the event I do get stuck. Your truck is the only one that is capable of hauling mine out."
I smiled, "I have some cars to work on, but I'm sure they can wait. My truck could use a new paint job as well. Lemme grab my keys and we'll head out."
"Great! Sorry to just come out of the blue without letting you know earlier. Just been busy with work and haven't really had time to myself," she said with a shrug.
"Don't worry 'bout it. I've been busy too with fixing so many cars and adding lift kits to trucks." I hopped into my truck and followed Bama to the bog.
The drive to the bog was beautiful and very scenic. Fall was just starting and the leaves on the trees were just beginning to change; Weather was getting cooler and I was wearing my sweatshirts more often. The bog made everything even more pretty. The reds, greens, yellows, and oranges of the leaves go well with the light brown of the mud. A picture-perfect scene; The reason I moved to Alabama in the first place. When we arrived to our destination, I pulled up beside Bama. My truck clearly bigger than hers; I hopped out and stood in front of our trucks and beside her as I surveyed the land.
"So why did you just show up? The mud seems to be slightly dry. . ." I asked in curiosity.
Her answer was hesitant. "My guy and I aren't doing so well. He's mad at me for taking my truck to a different mechanic instead of him. He doesn't like competition and he'd do anything to make sure he's the only one."
Leaning against my truck, I listened to what she had to say. Why would he get so upset over someone else fixing her truck? It's not like anyone is going to do anything wrong. Well, at least I wouldn't. "I'm sorry to hear that. . ." I said as I started to get back into my truck. In a way, it was my fault because I was the one to fix her truck. So, I started the engine and floored the big machine into the mud bog.
Bama followed behind me. At first, she carefully drove her vehicle into the first three feet of mud and then quickly picked up speed. Flinging mud on to her truck and into the air. She stopped in front of me and it made me wonder if something happened to the truck again. My phone started to ring signalling I had a text message.
Ready? - Bama
I was confused at first at the text. Before long, I heard her revving her engine. Uh Oh. . .If she was thinking what I was thinking. . . All of a sudden, mud started flying on to my windshield. I suddenly understood her text message. I instantly had an idea, so I shot back a text.
Come push my truck out. I'm stuck. - Shan
Sure enough, Bama was behind me and slowly inching towards my bumper. Perfect. Putting my truck in neutral, she began to push me. Without warning, I spun my tires; Causing mud to fly up. I looked back into my rear-view mirror and smiled at Bama's mud-covered windshield.
After another hour of fooling around in the mud, Bama and I went back to my garage. I cleaned her windshield and her back window so she could see and drive safely.
"Thanks, Shan," she said while giving me a hug.
