One evening, my junior year of college, I was invited by my family home evening brothers to go to a bonfire down by Utah Lake. None of my roommates wanted to go, but I was trying to expand my social circle and push some comfort zones, so I agreed to go.
I rode out with Joel and Autumn, two of my FHE brothers. There was to be a crowd of about 20 people out there. There was definitely a carefree spirit in the air - it was the weekend and we were off to a good time. Autumn drove a Geo Tracker, and once we hit the open dirt on the shore, he was anxious to put that little car through its paces.
We were the first car out there, and he headed straight for the water's edge. He was having fun driving in figure 8's that gradually got closer and closer to the edge of the lake. Unfortunately for Autumn, it was a dark night and he couldn't see how wide the mud bank was. By the time he decided to head back to the dry ground, he was losing traction. We inched forward slowly, but it was a losing battle. The mud slowly but surely pulled his tires in to their axles. And then our wheels were turning, but we gained no ground. In fact, the more he tried, the deeper we sank.
We quickly but gingerly jumped out of the car and into the sludge. By this time, other cars were arriving. Friends and strangers alike gathered around to assess the situation. We tried wedging wood blocks (brought for the bonfire) under the wheels to give them enough purchase to get out. One of the other guys there brought their truck around to try to pull out the Tracker. Unfortunately, we were farther in than anyone had anticipated. The other, heavier truck also sunk into the sludge and refused to be moved.
At this point, we were getting frustrated, and it was getting late. We were also quickly running out of options. Then, one of the guys remembered that our bishop had mud tires on his truck. If only they had his phone number. Unfortunately, of all the guys there (including the executive secretary for the ward), no one had his number handy.
Ladies to the rescue! Our bishop spent the beginning of every Relief Society meeting for the first month in our ward having us all practice his phone number in unison. He told us that he wanted us to be able to call him if we were ever on a date and the so-called gentleman was acting ungentlemanly. He admonished us to carry a quarter in each shoe so we would always be ready. He said, "You tell that young man, 'My bishop can be here in 12 minutes. He's 6'4," weighs 250 lbs, and once spent a night in jail for losing his temper.'"
Well, several of us girls started to recite the bishop's number in the unison sing-song way we'd practiced. We made the call. Bless that man! Bishop Young drove out to the far side of Utah Lake with his mud tires and pulled both vehicles out of the lake.
Poor Autumn didn't hear the end of it at church the next day. His car looked like it had barely survived a brush with the mud monster. He took it all good-naturedly. That was the last bonfire I attended at Utah Lake. To this day, I still have Bishop Young's number memorized.
