“No spinning please!” I called out to Mr. Beckham two seconds after I started pushing the button on the winch to pull him out.
If you remember I was rescuing a chauvinistic moron who was really pushing the barriers of how few brain cells a person could have but still breath, so far I think this guy was managing on about five. Not only had he gotten himself bogged, and yes I’m saying it was him and not an accident., but while his vehicle was bogged his mouth was working overtime.
I wont give you a full run down of what had gone on since we arrived you can read back for that if you don’t remember, or if you haven’t been paying due attention. I do however recommend you read back because it’s a damn good story I create!
Anyway enough self indulgence and back to the story, if you remember my brother was with me and Mr. Beckham had already made idiot statements to him based on my gender. Well sitting in the driver’s seat of his four wheel drive spinning the wheels as I asked him not to do he was looking across at Matthew and not at me. I was tempted to ask Matthew to come and stand next to me just so Mr. Beckham would look at me, the person trying to pull his vehicle out, but I completely understood why he was standing where he was.
“DON”T SPIN THE WHEELS!” I called out loudly and angrily, then in a quieter voice I knew he wouldn’t hear I added the word idiot.
So what happened next? Mr. Beckham sat there and waved to Matthew, not to me, to Matthew as if it was Matthew’s angry voice telling him off. Honestly the guy just kept getting better.
Almost immediately I lifted my finger off the remote and stopped the winch pulling. The cable that was tort as it tried to pull the vehicle straight out went limp as I backed the winch off. The Toyota dipped back into the hole in which it was bogged.
With the way Mr. Beckham was spinning the wheels we had no chance of pulling the vehicle out because all he was doing was shifting the sand as I tried to pull him up over it. Basically what happens when the pulled vehicle spins its wheels is the deep cut tread on the tyres shifts the sand and rather than have the tyres drive out of the hole they essentially dig themselves on. The same reason many people, including Mr. Beckham, got bogged in the first place.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Beckham called as he tilted his head out the driver’s window. “We nearly had it out.”
Interestingly enough the comment suggesting I was doing something wrong was aimed directly at me, even if none of the other comments had been. I decided to confront Mr. Beckham quietly rather than yell in the hope what without an audience he might listen.
“Frank.” I started as I stepped up to his window reminding myself to call him by his actual name and not the nickname I’d given him. “We need to keep wheel spinning down to a minimum so that the tyres help pull the car out not dig it deeper.”
Apparently being polite and facing him alone wasn’t something that Mr. Beckham appreciated. “Relax babe, I’ve got this, been four wheel driving since you were sitting at home playing with your Barbie’s!” He then leaned over towards the open passenger window and called to Matthew. “Why don’t you take over?”
To my brother’s credit again he didn’t react, but I did. “Just do as I asked and keep the wheels from spinning and I’ll have you out of here in a matter of minutes.”
“Ok honey pot, keep your knickers on!” Mr. Beckham said with a smirk.
Two minutes later I was standing in clear site of everyone, exactly where I liked to be to make sure I knew where everyone was at all times, and I was again yelling at Mr. Beckham.
“Stop spinning the wheels.” I called out.
“Just keep the winch pulling babe.” I heard him call moments before the revs of his engine picked up and I couldn’t hear anything.
If his engine revving was a way in which to stop hearing me tell him what to do it worked because there was no way I was yelling over the roar of that V6 Diesel engine. Instead I flicked the winch off, let the cable go slack and walked directly to the door of the Toyota. Unlike the previous effort where I kept my voice low so as not to embarrass the guy in front of his friends as I stepped up to the vehicle for a second time the volume of my voice and his embarrassment were not my concern.
“If you can’t feather that throttle so that the wheels aren’t spinning and digging yourself into the hole deeper get out of the vehicle and let someone else do it.” I said loudly but without anger.
“Alright babe, settle down. I know what I am doing.” His voice was not as loud as it has been and despite the babe comment I could tell he wasn’t used to being spoken too in such a manner by a female of the species.
“If you knew what you were doing you wouldn’t have got this thing stuck in the first place.” I could see Mr. Beckham look around towards his mates, whether it was for support or to make a comment about me I’m not sure because his mates were out of his sight and he didn’t get the chance before I spoke again “That’s right, if you hadn’t been gung ho with how you got the Toyota here you’d never have been bogged in the first place. Now you’ve got two choices, do and act as I say and I’ll pull you out, or I’ll unhook the winch and leave you where you sit.”
“Gee honey chops, that’s not very nice. You wouldn’t leave me here.”
He was right but I wasn’t going to just give in that easy.
“Feel free to test that theory Frank.” I paused for a second. “So make your choice.” I paused again. “Well, what is it? Do as I request or do I leave you making sand castles?”
Previous Desert Rescue Story here.