The Wallow

(Please click on the title for a reading aloud by the author.)

There’s a low spot in the road I call the wallow. Walking out there this morning I think if I learned one thing from being raised by drunks (and if that weren’t enough, most of them were Swedes), it’s do not brood; instead do.

When it rains water collects in this place and when cars pass through they splash the water and the mud out deepening the whole mess. What started as a puddle is now a pool of liquid mud clear across the road which lingers for days after a storm. We’ve been getting a lot of rain, which in the desert is always a blessing. But it also means the wallow doesn’t dry up for weeks at a time, and mud especially deep mud puts the kibosh on getting in and out of here on the motorcycle. Being self indulgent about this, after a while I get pretty cranky. I might even brood.

Last weekend this came to a head. Two weeks had gone by and with mud and work and life I hadn’t been for a ride. Saturday morning however, things were looking good, the road was mostly dry and the sun was out. I grabbed a shovel and walked to the wallow and filled in enough along one side to get through. A few clouds were building up, but I would go for a short ride, treat myself to a couple chicken tacos at El Parasol and get home. Out I went, it felt sooo good to be on the bike.

If you want the genuine article go to El Parasol; their tacos are the best. After lunch my desire to go for more of a ride was strong but I resisted. Riding back everything was going well until I was a few miles from home. In the distance a gusher of a storm was heading right for the neighborhood and I wasn’t going to beat it. This is when I started getting upset. Getting locked out by mud is a royal pain, finding a secure place to leave the bike, how to get home, etc. I got the bike off the road at Linda’s and Uncle Lewi came to fetch me. He can attest to how upset I was. Man… I just want to get out for a ride and… @!*&!!)#$ mud!!! I was fit to be tied.

With the worst of storm over both mine and Mother Nature’s, I used the remainder of my steam to get back out there and shovel more dirt into the wallow. Given a chance to dry, by the next day I was able to get the bike back with only a bit of slipping around. This was good. I was then also determined to fix the wallow once and for all.

The plan is shovel dirt from the edges of the road to the middle forming a crown and create ditches for water to drain to. The wallow is thus disappearing. This is a section of road about ten feet wide by fifteen feet long and the fill will end up being about a foot and a half deep. This may not sound like much, but with a shovel it’s a lot of dirt to move. A few sessions out there and in more ways than one things are coming together.

Damp earth makes for easier shoveling and last night we had more rain. First thing this morning shovel in hand I headed for the wallow. The sun got hot in a hurry and I peeled off my shirt. There was a time I was known by one female at least, as “one hundred thirty five pounds of twisted steel and sex appeal.” Gosh, it’s nice to be appreciated for who you really are, isn’t it? But today, at the same weight I stand there taking a break and notice a roll of fat dominates my waist and I’m developing man-boobs. Now it’s a matter of question what I’m one hundred and thirty five pounds of, and decide shoveling dirt once in a while isn’t a bad idea.

This week I’ve talked with friends… Gideon, a brilliant software engineer; Karyn, a gifted sculptress; Ben, a wizard of all things motorrad. And then there’s me, writer of some ability. All determined creatives, we face the push and pull of making a living and doing work that’s of value to us and hopefully others. Our work is often without tangible results for long spells. Oh, you thought you were going to make money at this? The struggles can be cerebral and real. It’s easy to wonder what it’s all about.

The wallow is different. There is a problematic hole in the road and I am filling it with dirt. It is taking on a smooth shape and after last night’s rain there was no puddle. My sense of accomplishment feels good. This afternoon it is raining again. When it stops, maybe this evening or tomorrow morning I will go out and work on it more. There are a few low spots I’d like to bring up and I’m looking forward to it. When the wallow is no more if I’m still needing tangible results, there’s another mile of road to go.

Gordon Bunker