Copyright 2024 Woodsmudder All rights reserved

My New Life, Chapter 1: The night I learned the joy of mud and grease

I had just graduated from college and started a job my parents said was perfect for me. It was a huge company that would give me great benefits and a good retirement if I stayed there for most of my life. But I hated it. I hated the job and most of the people. It just wasn't me. I couldn't imagine staying there for another week, let alone my entire life, so one day I did something nuts. I told my boss I was quitting, I threw some clothes, tools, and camping gear in my truck, and I took off.

I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to go. I felt like I'd been in prison since high school. I needed out. The first week or two was great. I slept in campgrounds, cooked my meals over a fire or my camp stove, and just drove around, meeting people, drinking, having fun. But reality gradually set in. I was nearly broke and was running up credit card bills. I needed work, but didn't want to work in an office or in a store. I'd had it with that life. Getting a laboring job appealed to me, but I didn't have the muscles. I had to find something fast.

The answer came by accident. It was a stormy evening, not too cold but with hard gusting wind and torrential rain, not a great night for camping, but I couldn't afford a motel room, so I had resigned myself to setting up my tent in the mud and pouring rain and was driving to the nearest campground listed in my AAA guide book. With my windshield wipers beating furiously, I was keeping my eyes glued carefully to the road when I saw a truck parked in the mud, just off the road, an old pickup with car engines and transmissions filling the bed. I slowed down in case he pulled out in front of me, but then I saw the hood was up and a guy was crawling out from under the truck. A sign on the door said "Mac's Auto Wrecking". We were miles from nowhere. The guy would have a long walk home if I left him here. Strangers have gone out of their way to help me when I've been stranded, so I wasn't going to leave this guy stranded alone in a raging storm. I parked my truck in front of his and walked back to him. Immediately the pouring rain was soaking my Levi's jacket and jeans. My boots got sucked into the mud with every step I took.

His name was Luke, about my age, wearing mud soaked overalls, his hands and face black with grease. "The problem's the drive shaft", he said, showing me the old drive shaft leaning against a fender. I've just got the old one out. That explained why he was covered in mud. "I have one in back that should fit."

"Need a hand?" I asked without even thinking. I worked on my cars and my friends' cars, so I had some experience. I'd never replaced a drive shaft, but I'm always up to learn.

"You sure? You're gonna get messy and wet."

"I'm already wet. Let's get started." While Luke dug the other drive shaft out from under the stack of old parts in his truck's bed, I went to my truck and got another sweat shirt that I put on under my Levi's jacket. Rain was already soaking through to my shirt. Maybe the extra sweat shirt would keep me warm. At least I hoped it would.

I got on my back and wiggled my way under the truck on the other side of the driveshaft from Luke, a single flashlight propped against a rock showing us what we were doing. We were lying in several inches of water with some deep mud squishing underneath. My back was instantly drenched. We worked under that damned truck for an hour. Luke swore he had the right driveshaft. He'd known his was going bad and he had gotten one from a similar truck, thinking it was the same one. But it wasn't, and it was now 1am, we were both wet, muddy, and exhausted, I was cold, and we both could see that no matter what we did, that drive shaft was just not going to fit.

I offered to drive him home. What choice did I have? It would be hours out of my way, but I couldn't leave him stranded here. I was exhausted and soaked and cold. I wouldn't reach the campground until almost sunrise, but maybe being cold and soaking wet would at least keep me from falling asleep behind the wheel.

I cleared the seat in my truck while Luke locked up his. He brought some drop clothes for us to sit on to keep my seats clear of mud, but he could see I was starting to shiver. I was damned cold. "You're probably wearing cotton", he said. "Big mistake in this weather."

I asked what he was wearing. "Wool" he replied. "And it's got lots of oil and grease in it, which might help. Come on, let's get you dressed a little better."

I said I'd be OK, but he'd had a lot of experience working on wet, cold nights. He knew I needed something warmer, so he went back to his truck and got coveralls. "Sorry I don't have any extra wool for you, but this should help. The coveralls were old and filthy, and smelled of engine oil. Lots of it. I wasn't sure I wanted to put them on, but Luke insisted, then told me to lie down and leave the coveralls open. He said his father once used mud to stay warm. "It might work. Even if it doesn't, what do you have to lose? You're already wet and filthy." He grabbed a shovel from his truck and started digging up gobs of mud that he dumped into my overalls. Again and again, before finally telling me to button them up.

As I stood up, I felt the mud shift, flowing down my pants. I was soaked through with mud. I'd never been this filthy, this slimy, this messy. But it felt good. It felt wonderful. I couldn't tell Luke, but I was feeling aroused. I was glad it was night and I was covered with mud and wearing coveralls so he couldn't see my hard on. He wouldn't understand. For him, it was just another day working in the mud, but for me, damn it felt great! I'd never felt like this before. My cock was stiff like a board. I don't think it had ever been this stiff.

We got into my truck and started on the two hour drive to his home, stereo blasting and heater on full. It would be a long night. After leaving him at his house, I'd have another two hour drive to the campground. I wouldn't get there until sunrise. I was looking forward to a hot shower and crawling into my warm sleeping bag, but I didn't want to ever wash these clothes again. I never felt so alive. I wanted to keep the mud on these clothes forever so I'd never forget this night.

I never made it to the campground. By the time we reached the wrecking yard where Luke lived with his folks, we were friends. He didn't want to leave his truck back there on the road and I wasn't going to desert a friend, so I changed into some dry clothes and some greasy, torn coveralls left behind by a former employee, and we headed back with the right drive shaft for his truck. Luke didn't bother changing. He just wanted to get back to his truck.

It was mostly uneventful. We drove two hours back to his truck. The rain had stopped, but the truck was still sitting in a deep puddle of mud. We crawled underneath and replaced the drive shaft. It went fast and soon we were driving both trucks back to his wrecking yard, muddy and wet again, but fast friends. We got back at nine in the morning. Luke wouldn't let me look for a campground. His dad had a small travel trailer where an employee could stay. The last guy had just quit, so it was vacant. Luke insisted that I stay there until they hired someone new.

I was exhausted. I peeled off my cold, muddy clothes, left them on a bench outside the trailer, and went inside for a hot shower. I fell asleep as soon as I crawled into my sleeping bag. Little did I suspect it would be the start of a new life for me.