Saturday, October 16, 2010

Silly Falls and Motor Rasslin’

That’s motor wrestling for those of you who aren’t versed in redneck-speak.

My husband and I are down at the coast at the family house on the creek for a little weekend R&R and some fishing.  We hope that it’s a catching trip, not just a fishing trip, but either way, there’s nothing better.  We try to get down here at least once a month.  This house is very special to us since it’s the place where we spent the better part of our courtship.

This morning, I took the dog (Penny) outside to do her morning business.  The house is built on 12 foot pilings in case of flooding and so taking the dog out, requires a trip down the stairs.  This morning, that ‘trip down stairs’ changed from a travel type trip to a stumbling type trip and I’m lucky that I didn’t break my ankle considering that I missed the last step and stumbled to the ground, my ankle rolling forward.

Naturally, I had to stand up real quick and look around as if to say, “I meant to do that!” just in case anyone happened to be looking.  I dusted myself off and when Penny accomplished her mission, I went back upstairs and was reminded of another fall that I had about 12 years ago.

As I mentioned earlier, my husband and I spent most of our weekends at the creekhouse while we were dating.  The reason for that is that he has two kids and I have two kids and it was a good way for all of us to be together, and let the kids run and play and wear themselves out.

One weekend in particular, we didn’t have the kids with us so we decided to take the johnboat out on a fishing trip.  When we got back, we, of course had to clean up the boat and flush the motor and take the motor off the back of the boat (it was only a 14 HP motor with a tiller attached to it) and store the motor in the storage closet under the house.

Naturally, adult beverages were involved in this whole process, but I was really feeling the love that day and wanted to show my man that his woman can take care of herself.

So we flushed the motor with fresh water and washed out the boat so it was as pretty as a johnboat can be and my man goes to the storeroom to get the stand (or dolly, it had wheels) that the motor rested on.  At this point in time, KX59 (my man) was trying to hurry because he had a feeling what was going to happen next.

I don’t know what came over me, but I decided that I would lift the motor off the transom and walk it to the dolly, meeting KX59 half way.  Well back then, that portion of the driveway was made of limestone rock so there were a lot of large, loose rocks.  The motor wasn’t heavy, it only weighed 60 pounds, that was about half of my weight at the time.  The trouble was not just the terrain I was walking on, but mostly it was the fact that the motor had a long shaft so it was very awkward to carry.

So, I’m holding this motor, walking like a Geisha because that’s all that the long shaft will allow my feet to move; and suddenly I step on a large rock and all hell breaks loose.

First, I shout out KX’s name and then as creative and very skilled cuss words pass my lips, I begin to fall forward.  Not wanting to drop the motor, I pull it close to my chest as both my feet slide in an unnatural direction (skyward).  At this point, all I see is the ground coming at me and all I can think of is that I’m going to break the motor and I can’t afford to buy a new one! 

The motor hits the ground and I land on it.  It’s really more like I body slammed it and managed to knock every bit of wind out of my lungs and quite possibly crack a rib or two.  Meanwhile, KX59 has returned from the shed in time to see me falling down and immediately rushes to my side.

At this point, not only can I not breathe, my pride is crushed.  I rolled over onto the ground and I see KX’s face over me and I barely croaked out three words, “Don’t touch me!”  The pain that I was feeling felt like nothing that I had felt since I was a kid and fell out of a tree (a whole other story).  I felt like my lungs were on fire and I was all scraped up.

Eventually, the air came back to my lungs and we went upstairs.  I was fine, though my pride was not.  The motor was just fine as well, if not a little scratched up.

Love makes us do crazy things sometimes, doesn’t it?


  1. That's one fine story.

    I remember my daddy telling me (while we were moving some big piece of furniture) that "skin grows back, varnish doesn't."

    Not sure about pride, though. ;-)

  2. LOL.. that's great, I'll have to remember that saying, never know when it'll come in handy.

  3. ask her how she cracked her heel at the creek house...gahead ask her

  4. So, Belle - how'd you crack your heel?


  5. Oh lordy, now there's a story.... I'm sure that adult beverages were once again involved... I think that I will make it a blog post because it's a little long for the comments page.. will post it soon....


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