How I almost lost my car in floods of 2017

I survived the Northern California floods of 2017, but not unscathed.

Not even close. And my life-changing dance with death may end up on one of those Weather Channel specials about disasters. It was that crazy.

It all started one Tuesday – the day Interstate 80 in the Sierra was closed due to whiteout conditions and Highway 50 had a chunk fall away. The Oroville Dam spillway remained frighteningly close to collapsing.

And Mrs. Brad and I nearly lost our 2005 Prius.

We drove to meet with a group of church friends at the home of Matt and Atasha, who live in the semirural part of Green Valley. They have a circular driveway, so I decided to be polite (give room to others) and selfish (make it so no one can block me in) and parked on the dirt, just off the pavement.

We went in, had a great time and prepared to leave. I got in the car and Mrs. Brad stood in the driveway (since her shoes had gotten muddy while getting out. You can see where this is going, even though I couldn't) as I tried to back up.

The car didn't move. I thought there was something goofy (stupid hybrid! Maybe I forgot to turn it on!), so I tried again. Nothing. I got out. I looked at the front tires.

They were half-buried in the mud. The car had sunk in the mud! It was . . . (was it possible? Was my childhood nightmare coming true?) like quicksand!

It couldn't be serious. It was just a little mud. I had Mrs. Brad drive and I pushed.

No luck.

I went inside and got Matt. He came out and we both pushed.

No luck.

We found some boards he had lying around and put them right behind the front tires to provide traction.

No luck.

We got Matt's truck (by now, Mrs. Brad was inside, undoubtedly muttering about my decision to park on mud) and hooked up straps to pull the car out.

No luck. The straps broke.

We found a chain. No luck. The chain broke.

I stood in the Green Valley darkness, pondering whether my car was a goner. Priuses (Priui?) aren't built for off-roading and I could see that the bottom of the car was flush with the mud.

It was like a disaster movie!

Finally, I called a tow truck. About 30 minutes later, the driver arrived, used some sort of voodoo to lift the car and charged my insurance company (yes!) for the work. To his credit, the driver didn't ask why I thought it was a good idea to park on mud after weeks of rain.

Of course, my car had problems. The wheels wobbled once I hit 60 mph, which is necessary on my daily commute, but I took the car to a tire place.

The man there said that guys who drive four-wheelers often bring their vehicles in after mud gets stuck and they merely hose it off, which is what happened with the Prius.

He never asked why the car was so muddy. He never asked why I would park a Prius on mud. He never asked whether I saw my life flash before my eyes.

And he didn't charge me. But lesson learned. I'll never park in dirt again.

The floods of 2017 taught me that much.

And that I am a survivor.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.