Star-crossed Salvage: Mud Bogs: Just A Good Time

Prologue:

"Why was I there? Why....M....do you ask about me, of all of the people there, why me?" I laugh. "Because," she says, "It is the biggest redneck fest of the year and you don't have a redneck bone in your body. I am a redneck, but you..."
"I know," I reply, "I am certainly not a redneck, and I would not try to pass myself off as one. But, I was there for the same reason everyone else was there; because it is a shit ton of fun."

************

Mud bogs. And what some of you ask, are mud bogs? Goss's Mud Bogs???

Uh....and what are you not hearing? Mud? Bogs?
Vermont. Spring. Mud.
Vehicles driving through the mud.
Bud light. Fields blue with Bud Light cans.
Laughter. Fun.
Just fun. Stupid, no reason, mindless fun.
Playing in the mud.

"Why do they do this," the bespectacled, clearly sober @ 3 pm, man in a crisp navy Maine-logo t-shirt asks, late in the sunny Mother's Day Sat afternoon, his phone held to the sky, as if trying to discern his place in the universe (hint, dude, probably not here--if you have to ask and all that). "umm...because it's fun?" I say.

He looks crooked glasses unsure and proceeds to video himself on the phone, "Here I am at the mud fest in Vermont....." Totally not getting it. Cut loose, guy, I think, grab a beer, stop thinking about it all and have fun. There's nothing to figure out here, no point to "this."

And the "this" is driving vehicles through deep mud and water. Yep, that's it. And drinking beer, or whatever, but mostly beer.

"It is just a big, totally fun drunken party," I tell another unannointed friend. "Hundreds. Literally hundreds of people, and the thing is it is fun. Just stupid, makes no sense fun. Drink beer, drive through mud. No point except it's fun."

And so, Mr. Maine, and anyone else who might ask--Goss's Mud Bogs are just that--a ton of fun! I had a blast, trotting around in my Banana Republic garb and Carolina work boots, micro brew in hand, sorry, no Bud Light for me, thanks! and camera. I talked to people, took pictures, some by request, laughed at cars that got stuck, laughed at people slipping and falling into the mud, as they climbed out of marooned vehicles, cheered drivers and vehicles on when their tires came off, tipped over, caught on fire, and stalled door deep in mud ruts and water.

The smell of bog mud is an oozy grey-green soft swampy smell, not the brown gritty smell of garden dirt. A muck smell. Add intermittent waves of the sharp scent of wires and tires and exploded radiators burning, the sound of engines pushed to and beyond their limit screaming and scraping and dying in the extremes of silence or with big bangs, and it is quite the scene. Along with a dead engine comes the inevitable open hood, billows of white-grey smoke, occasional shouts of "fire!, a bunch of people leaning in, looking under the hood, grabbing and shaking things, trying to start and restart vehicles, people climbing out and jumping on vehicles to free them from the clutches of the mud, the rattle of chains being attached to a skidder or another vehicle to pull out the stranded. Just general craziness, and a lot of people laughing and doing pretty much what I was doing. People climb out of and onto stalled vehicles, island oases of beer drinking and socializing.

A day that got progressively louder, crazier, wilder and funnier. A good time.

the day begins...