Vienna (pronounced VI enna)
Back in my salad days, when I was selling security systems, I had a call from a gentleman that had a summer home in Vienna Maine, not to be confused with Vienna. He gave me directions and told me if I had any problems to contact his contractor/caretaker/plow guy/barber. I can't remember his name, let's call him Charles Manson, there was a slight resemblence.
It happened that on that day, Ashlee had an orthodotist appointment and I was driving Don's Tahoe, aka, Baby. Background information: Don had the Tahoe custom designed and it was a beaut. I only drove it to save on gas. It was black, tan leather interior, pipes, really a gorgeous ride.
One other time I had a frightening experience in the Tahoe when I passed one of those 'YOUR SPEED' signs with your mph and the posted mph. It was facing the other direction for oncoming traffic and I wondered if it would clock my speed. After I passed the radar on wheels I gazed into the rear view mirror to see what my mph was and it didn't say, but when I returned my eyes to the road, 3 feet in front of me was a little old lady stopped making a left into the post office. I stood on the breaks, went right of her, left of the telephone pole and spun around to land in the ditch facing the radar on wheels - it didn't capture that either.
So Ashlee and I headed off to Vienna and were lost within seconds of the town line. I found what I thought was the road and we kept going, the snow got deeper and deeper until I realized we had taken the wrong road and were, how do you say, 'SCREWED'. I stopped and tried to backup and the tires spun, 4WD, spinning, Full Time 4WD, spinning, LO 4WD, spinning. At this point I start cussing like a sailor. Forward, reverse, forward, reverse. Nothing. Forward, reverse, forward, reverse, surprisingly still nothing!! We leave the vehicle, no cell service - of course. We start walking and I'm trying to figure out how to explain to Don that I've got the Tahoe mired in snow real good. As we're walking we hear the sweet sound of snowmobiles.
Two snowmobiles showed up and the one rider asked what happened. I explained that our vehicle was down the 'trail' a piece and stuck pretty well. They went off to check it out and try to free it. I believe they thought they would be driving back in the Tahoe to save the day. Didn't happen. After a while they returned and said, "You are really stuck good. If you had gone 20 feet further you'd be in the beaver bog." Well thank God for small favors!
Now the moral dilema. There were two snowmobiles, with nice lads who stopped to help us, checked out the vehicle and now were standing there saying they could transport us back to the main road, but only one at a time. This is when the mama bear instincts take hold. I, the foreward thinking bear, much like Yogi, hand Ashlee the tool from the vehicle that cuts the seat belt, emits a red light, has a whistle and best of all has a nail that can eject to puncture an air bad or a pervert. I give her this and a pep talk. Off she goes on the back of a snowmobile and I start walking as fast as I can in her direction. Within 4 minutes the snowmobile is back for me and we're flying towards semi-civilization. I see Ashlee, she's fine, I'm fine and I have cell service so I can all Don. Suddenly I'm not so fine anymroe.
I explain to Don what happened and he was on his way, displeased, but on his way. About 45 minutes later he showed up with our 'beater' truck but the road was too snowy - there was no way we were salvaging the Tahoe. We call Jeff. Jeff is the Jeff part of Pam and Jeff. If you have a problem, Jeff can help or find help. Jeff calls Timmy. Timmy is the Timmy part of Timmy and Brenda. Jeff and Timmy head to Vienna. Timmy has his company vehicle, a truck. I ask what happens if he gets that stuck and he replies, "I get a bigga truck!" Okey dokey. They head off down the trail and Don and I sit in the beater in thick itchy silence. I'm thinking I'd like an open casket and perhaps a spray of clematis. From the darkness lights appear, one set of headlights then another HOORAY!!! They freed Baby. They did explain that there was one hell of a beaver bog just ahead. I don't understand to this day how in the dark of night they knew that - was the beaver chatting with all of these guys? "Hey shithead, keep the vehicle out of my damn bog!" Not that beavers are vulgar.
Vienna is still a topic of ribbing for me. After that I learned the rule, you don't call your own husband for help, if you're east of the Kennebec you call Jeff, west you call Timmy. They coordinate among themselves and you don't get yelled at.
It happened that on that day, Ashlee had an orthodotist appointment and I was driving Don's Tahoe, aka, Baby. Background information: Don had the Tahoe custom designed and it was a beaut. I only drove it to save on gas. It was black, tan leather interior, pipes, really a gorgeous ride.
One other time I had a frightening experience in the Tahoe when I passed one of those 'YOUR SPEED' signs with your mph and the posted mph. It was facing the other direction for oncoming traffic and I wondered if it would clock my speed. After I passed the radar on wheels I gazed into the rear view mirror to see what my mph was and it didn't say, but when I returned my eyes to the road, 3 feet in front of me was a little old lady stopped making a left into the post office. I stood on the breaks, went right of her, left of the telephone pole and spun around to land in the ditch facing the radar on wheels - it didn't capture that either.
So Ashlee and I headed off to Vienna and were lost within seconds of the town line. I found what I thought was the road and we kept going, the snow got deeper and deeper until I realized we had taken the wrong road and were, how do you say, 'SCREWED'. I stopped and tried to backup and the tires spun, 4WD, spinning, Full Time 4WD, spinning, LO 4WD, spinning. At this point I start cussing like a sailor. Forward, reverse, forward, reverse. Nothing. Forward, reverse, forward, reverse, surprisingly still nothing!! We leave the vehicle, no cell service - of course. We start walking and I'm trying to figure out how to explain to Don that I've got the Tahoe mired in snow real good. As we're walking we hear the sweet sound of snowmobiles.
Two snowmobiles showed up and the one rider asked what happened. I explained that our vehicle was down the 'trail' a piece and stuck pretty well. They went off to check it out and try to free it. I believe they thought they would be driving back in the Tahoe to save the day. Didn't happen. After a while they returned and said, "You are really stuck good. If you had gone 20 feet further you'd be in the beaver bog." Well thank God for small favors!
Now the moral dilema. There were two snowmobiles, with nice lads who stopped to help us, checked out the vehicle and now were standing there saying they could transport us back to the main road, but only one at a time. This is when the mama bear instincts take hold. I, the foreward thinking bear, much like Yogi, hand Ashlee the tool from the vehicle that cuts the seat belt, emits a red light, has a whistle and best of all has a nail that can eject to puncture an air bad or a pervert. I give her this and a pep talk. Off she goes on the back of a snowmobile and I start walking as fast as I can in her direction. Within 4 minutes the snowmobile is back for me and we're flying towards semi-civilization. I see Ashlee, she's fine, I'm fine and I have cell service so I can all Don. Suddenly I'm not so fine anymroe.
I explain to Don what happened and he was on his way, displeased, but on his way. About 45 minutes later he showed up with our 'beater' truck but the road was too snowy - there was no way we were salvaging the Tahoe. We call Jeff. Jeff is the Jeff part of Pam and Jeff. If you have a problem, Jeff can help or find help. Jeff calls Timmy. Timmy is the Timmy part of Timmy and Brenda. Jeff and Timmy head to Vienna. Timmy has his company vehicle, a truck. I ask what happens if he gets that stuck and he replies, "I get a bigga truck!" Okey dokey. They head off down the trail and Don and I sit in the beater in thick itchy silence. I'm thinking I'd like an open casket and perhaps a spray of clematis. From the darkness lights appear, one set of headlights then another HOORAY!!! They freed Baby. They did explain that there was one hell of a beaver bog just ahead. I don't understand to this day how in the dark of night they knew that - was the beaver chatting with all of these guys? "Hey shithead, keep the vehicle out of my damn bog!" Not that beavers are vulgar.
Vienna is still a topic of ribbing for me. After that I learned the rule, you don't call your own husband for help, if you're east of the Kennebec you call Jeff, west you call Timmy. They coordinate among themselves and you don't get yelled at.
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