“She’s bottomed out, son,” Phil yelled over the din of the whining motor.  “Back tires are spinnin’ free.  Cut the engine.  We’re walkin’ from here.”

After slamming headlong into one dip and hill too many, the little car had finally landed with the frame resting on a small rise, front wheels buried slightly in the dirt, and the back wheels several inches off the ground.  At first, Phil guessed he could just sit on the trunk to push the rear wheels down, but the incline and the fact the front wheels were stuck soon changed his mind.  There was simply too much weight on the front end to compensate with one large man.  Even three of him might not be able to do it.  No, a good truck with a wench was required, and they were fresh out.

Please subscribe to keep reading.