As you may or may not know, me and my Dad hunt for deer. We live in the sticks and youth hunting season started three or four days ago, and we've been road hunting since the season started.

Some of you remember that I recently paid off my gun, so yeah.

Anyway, we got up today at 7:00 (Early if you've been recently out of school) and proceeded something like a kilometer down the road, where there was a mule-deer buck standing sideways to my position. Initially my Dad was all like, "Take it!" but then he went on for another three minutes about how the buck was a bit small, and didn't have an outrageous amount of meat on it, so we went on.

That was the last shootable deer we saw.

So we drove around for a bit more, staked out a meadow that had a doe (illegal to shoot right now) and three or four cows (hate e'm) before I started to feel a little nauseous. Okay, no problem.

So we drive a bit farther up the road and decide to take the scenic (and bumpy) way home. About five kilometers in we come across a giant puddle that takes over the whole road.

We check it, and figure it's not too deep. I leave the truck and walk to the other side, and Dad proceeds to drive on the puddle's side…

…Where the tires slip and the truck is deposited half in the water at a 30 degree angle.

Probably another forty minutes later, one broken steel cable and one stretchy rope (as well as several dozen swears) we decide to walk back. It's only five or six kilometers (We've been walking for a while, and this is all mucky, puddley, up-and-down road), but we'll live.

We start out, and as we're calling a neighbor to ask if they can pick us up at the road, Dad's phone decides to give out.

We bite the bullet (No, not really) and walk to the main road, where we are lucky enough to have a couple in a gigantatruck pick us up and drive us to our house.

We take the heavy-duty-beat-up truck and tie a rope to it.

With Dad in the standard beast and me in the automatic truck with water up around my boots, we finally get it to come out, but the engine squealed all the way home, and I think something's wrong with the axle.

So, when we got home, I say, "If we'd shot the buck that wouldn't have happened."

Suffice it to say he wasn't happy about my "I told you so."

Time to rest.

-Darth