OOPS!

Grunting, I heft up the final bale of hay to load the truck for the morning's feeding.  Circling around the front of the pickup truck, I notice Jax and Tari both scrunched in the driver's seat, appearing like spatting siblings ready to fight over who was going to drive.  I crack the driver's door open and both stand with their stubby tails wiggling as if I had been gone for a month.  Dogs are amazing.  Human have so much to learn from them about devotion, forgiveness....the list is extensive.  And, it includes stunt driving.

I crawl into the captain's chair of the USS Silverado, a 1989 4-door Chevy pickup with dimensions equivalent to an aircraft carrier.  I swing the oversized rig into the pasture and shift the automatic transmission in low and partially engage the emergency brake.  This procedure allows me to hop out and climb in back as the truck slowly creeps along.  Then, I distribute hay across the pasture and when enough hay has been scattered, I run back up and jump in to captain the ship.  Jax and Tari sit in the front seat like patient castaways while I go through the procedure.

One by one, I move from pasture to pasture dropping appropriate amounts of hay.  The final pasture has a steep slope that drops into a huge canal.  Fencing keeps cattle out of the canal and I steer the truck along the ridgeline and repeat the procedure of transmission in low with a partial stomping on the emergency brake.  The truck creeps along as I drop hay, but a frozen cow-pie turns the front tires and the aircraft carrier slowly angles downhill.  Gravity suddenly pulls the truck straight down the slope with it picking up speed.  It's happened before, so it's no big deal.

I hop out of the bed and run beside the truck, planning to pop inside and drive it back up to the ridge to finish feeding.  As I run, I realize I'm not gaining on the driver's door handle.  I sprint with legs spinning in a blur and the best I get is an arm's length from the driver's door as the truck pulls away.

Oh Shit! 

My stomping on the emergency brake must have been a few clicks shy of the typical spot as the truck picks up speed as it approaches the 4 strand, barbed wire fence.

Surely the fence will act like a oversized net catching a monstrous fish?  Won't it? 

The USS Siverado has the rear propeller spinning full throttle as it busts through my hopeful safety net and hits the turbocharger as it heads straight to the canal.

"NOOOOOOOO!" I scream (like the truck would obey...why do people do that?) while seeing the back of Jax and Taris' heads through the rear window.  Their ears were erect as they were looking forward through windshield not knowing how the view was about to drastically change.

I watch the truck vanish over the edge of the canal. Sickened, I continue to run and anticipate the truck nosing into the bottom of the canal, but momentum flipping it upside down.

I reach the edge and look, the truck is not "tits up."  It was on all four tires as if someone was out for a Sunday drive touring the drained channel.  Jax and Tari were bouncing around looking out windows and I couldn't believe my luck. 

Thank goodness for dogs.  Especially stunt drivng dogs!

P.S.  A special construction crane, the ones with huge outriggers, hoisted the truck out for big $.  Despite having stunt driving dogs, the owners forbade my practice of feeding in such a manner...unless I knew they weren't watching...