Eventually, the front of the truck turned to the right and it started traveling forward, fishtailing as it went. Henry cranked the wheel to the left, and it began fishtailing to the left. The engine whined wildly as the truck skidded first one way, then the other. He could see out the windshield now, and was trying to get the truck back towards the gate, which passed briefly into his view every time the truck fishtailed one direction or the other. Just as he had convinced himself he was going to make it, suddenly, and without warning, the truck lurched to a dead stop, the headlights shining on the gate only twenty yards away. Henry’s head hit the steering wheel, cutting him just above his left eye, something he wouldn’t even be aware of until he looked in a mirror twelve hours later.

The truck’s motor was no longer running, and as he sat motionless, the only sound he could hear was the rain on the roof and the windshield wipers beating back and forth. Had he been sober, or more sober than he was, he more than likely would have gotten out of the truck and looked to see why he had come to a halt so abruptly. Had he done that, he would have seen the truck had become high centered on a large rock he had driven over. The rock was now just behind the right front tire, wedged in the wheel well. It was also big enough that it reached clear back to the center of the truck, just behind the transfer case for the four-wheel drive.

But Henry didn’t look. Instead, he climbed out of the truck, saw only that it was stuck in the mud, and decided to pull the vehicle out of the slop using the winch bolted to the frame on the front of the truck. He dug around behind the truck seat and found the operating system for the winch, which consisted of a twenty foot cable that plugged into the winch itself and a box with two buttons—one to let the cable out, and the other to bring the cable back in.

He stumbled to the front of the truck, eventually found the outlet to plug the cable in, and pushed the button to let the cable out. Or so he thought. He had actually pushed the button to bring the cable in, which it already was. The winch did nothing but hum and chatter. After several seconds Henry finally realized his mistake, let his thumb off that button and pressed the other. This time the winch reversed itself and the cable began to let itself out. Henry let out what he figured would be enough cable to get it around the nearest upright on the gate entrance, took a hold of the heavy metal hook on the end of the cable and slipped and slid his way over to the upright. He had figured the length too short and had to go back and let out a little more cable. The second time he had let out enough to get the cable around the upright and secure the hook back to the cable. He went back to the truck, picked up the box with the buttons and began winching the cable back on the spool. At first, the winch hummed smoothly as it took the slack out of the cable. Then, as the cable tightened, the winch began to slow, chatter, and eventually smoke.