Posted by: bourbonmama | 12/04/2009

Clever Title Here

As employees of a catering company and not the actual race track, we are not provided with adequate parking. While the track’s employees have a real paved parking spaces with lines and everything, we get a grassy hill full of ruts. It is not so bad on most days, you have just have to go super slow. But, on rainy days, this “parking lot” becomes a muddy pond. Friday, it rained. And rained. And thundered and lightninged (yes that is a real word). And, rained some more. I walked off the pavement and stepped into the grass. My foot sank. “Oh hell!”
“That’s exactly where you are!” says random guy as he mumbles something about his van being stuck and runs after one of the many tractors driving around. My little front wheel drive Toyota did wonderfully. There were a couple rough spots where I had to slam on the gas, but she made it out of there just fine. That night, more rain, more thunder, and more lightning. So much so that all of the evidence of the day’s mishaps was washed away. I pulled my uniform fresh from the dryer 30 minutes before I left the house. When I turned onto the “road” into our “parking lot” all I could see was mud. Everywhere. “Shit.” I mad it up the hill no problem, then I turned right, my tires slid, mud sprayed all over the side and roof (yes roof) of the car. I had my window cracked, I look down to see little brown polka dots all over my nice clean shirt. “Fuck me!”
I finally pull into a spot facing down hill. As I’m putting my purse in my trunk, a truck drives by and sprays mud on my pants. “Are you fuckin‘ kidding me? Asshole!”
After getting a loner shirt and cleaning off my pants, I am ready for work. Cut to the end of my day, I am getting out later than expected, fighting my way through a sea of drunks to get to my car. The mud pit looks worse than it did before. It seems as though some of my fellow employees had decided to go 4-wheeling. Leave it to some Kentucky boys to turn a disaster into a good time. No worries, I parked down hill, all I gotta do is put it in drive, and make a right, piece of cake. Yeah right.

This picture does not do it justice. I wish my car were darker.

 

 

Do you see that hunk of mud in my wheel well?

 

 

Check out my rear view mirror.

 

 

Those splatters were from the morning mud bath.

 

My work shoes.

 

The car wash guy laughed at me when I pulled in, today. He gets the other guys attention, and they both have a good laugh. “Yeah, I’m thinkin‘ just a rinse ‘ll do me,” I say with a wink. He laughs again.

“What happened to y’all?”

“This is courtesy of Keeneland.” I pull forward, roll up my window and put my car in neutral. I unbuckle my seat belt ant turn around to face Nate, who is mesmerised. They spend a while spraying off my undercarriage for a minute before sending us through. Nate did not move. Did not blink. Then, the guy at the end motioned for me to pull forward. I roll down my window.

What’d you do, go four wheelin‘?”

“God no, not in this car! This is from Keeneland.” Anyone else wanna ask me about my freakin‘ muddy car?

Now, I’m off to hose down my shoes.

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Responses

  1. Ick! I would have been pissed!!!!!!!!!!!

    No, actually, I would have burst into tears and turned around and drove home and crawled into bed and put the covers over my head. ;)


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