The tire turns in the dirt just off the curved driveway and spins and smokes and the humans stand and watch. The chickens are nearby, the skateboard flipped over next to some plants, and the water has risen to the sky and drifted over the hills today, low, gray, thick. The humans stand back and look at the front of the car and the small tree a foot away and the hole beneath the wheel. They picture tow trucks and cranes and helicopters or maybe just Clifford the Big Red Dog, biting the back bumper and pulling the family car to freedom.

The second driver switches back to the first driver and the humans lean on the front and the man from the green house says try straightening the wheel. They dig in their feet and push hard on the hood and bumper and the wheel stars to spin and it catches and moves and they push harder and each imagines they are actually pushing a whole car by themselves and it moves up the slope and up and they push one final push and it pops up over the drive way back onto the asphalt and they are saved.

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