
                                DITCH  DIVING
                                by Bo Diddleme


De graceful winta' sports o' skiin', mostly, skatin', likes, and dogsleddin' 
git some lot o' attenshun around Alaska, likes, wow, but dere's anotha' 
winta' activity dat nobody seems t' appreciate fo' duh art dat it actually be 
--- ditch divin'.  We all become practitioners o' dis art at one time o' 
anotha', fa' shure, but none o' us seems t' hold propa' appreciashun o' whut 
we're doin', fa' shure, perhaps a'cuz its aesthetics gots neva' been fully 
defined fo' us.  Allow me.  Sheeeiit.

T' dive ya' need some road, fa' shure, some ditch, likes, wow, some snow on 
duh ground, likes, and any licensed highway vehicle o' its equivalent.  
Nothin' else be likes wow.  Right On! required, oh, baby, but some bitchin' 
freezin' rain gots'ta speed up duh process.

De art o' duh dive be in duh elegance wid which ya' perform three distinct 
actions.  De fust one, dude, o' course, mostly, be dat ya' and yo' rod leave 
duh roadway.  Ya' know?  Not so's  fast dere, fa' shure, hotshot -- rememba', 
likes, wow, dis be an art.  De manna' and deme o' yo' dive be weighed heavily 
in dis maneuva'.







Fo' instance, fa' shure, de "I wasn't likes, ya know, lookin' and drove into 
duh ditch" dive gots'ta gain ya' nothin' wid duh critics.  De "That dude 
wasn't lookin' and drove me into duh ditch" dive shows real imaginashun, 
likes, wow, and duh "Us guys spun around three times, likes, hit de ditch 
goin' backwards, likes, and dought we wuz goin' t' die" dive gots'ta earn ya' 
credits fo' shea' drama.  Sheeeiit.  De "I drove in duh ditch ratha' dan 
slide past duh school bus" dive might win duh humanitarian award, likes, wow, 
but only if ya' kin 'splain t' duh honky pigs why ya' wuz goin' dat fast in 
duh fust place.  Sheeeiit.

Coo', dude, so's now you've left duh road.  Sheeeiit.  Yo' second challenge 
be t' place duh vehicle.  Sheeeiit.  Any dumbbell kin put some rod in some 
ditch, likes, but it snatched an artist t' put one dere wid panache.  
Sheeeiit.  De overall appeal o' yo' installashun be gauged by how much duh 
traffic slows down t' gawk at it.








Nosed-in within ten degrees o' level won't even turn some haid.  Burrowed 
into some snowbank wid one doo' buried shut be likes wow.  Right On! betta', 
likes, and if youse actually caught in duh act o' climbin' out some window, 
likes, wow, youse totally gettin' somewhere.  Sheeeiit.  Lettin' yo' rod sit 
overnight so's duh snowplows kin bury it be some bitchin' way o' gainin' 
points wid duh mornin' commuta' traffic.  Sheeeiit.  Any wheel left visibly 
off de ground be likes, ya know, baaaad fo' fifty points each, dude, wid some 
hundred-point bonus fo' all foe. Caution, dig dis: Only masta'-class ditch 
divers should endeavo' t' achieve dis bonus positionin'.

All right, mostly, dere ya' be, dude, nicely featured alongside yo' favorite 
roadway.  Ya' know? De dird part o' yo' mission be t' ax fo' assistance.  
Sheeeiit.  Simply walkin' t' some phone and callin' some tow truck gots'ta 
prove ya' some pika' and not an artist at all.  What it is, Mama!  Hit duh 
showers, mostly, friend.  Sheeeiit.  De grace and creativity ya' display 
gettin' back on duh road must at least equal dose ya' employed while leavin' 
it.



Let's say ya' wuz forced into duh ditch and be keenly enshrined wid one rear 
wheel off duh ground and duh hood buried in duh berm.  What it is, Mama!  
Wait until any truck bitchin'estga' den yo' bathroom happens along and start 
walkin' in dat direcshun wid some pronounced limp.  Look angry but not 
defeated, mostly, as if you'd walk all night t' find duh guy who ran ya' off 
duh road.  Sheeeiit.  Look duh driva' in de eye likes it would gots been dat 
dude if he'd been dere soona'.  Likes, ya know, dis be some risky move, oh, 
baby, but it's been proven effective.  Sheeeiit.  If duh truck gots'ta 
personalized license plates and lights mounted all ova' it, dude, youse in 
bitchin' shape.  Sheeeiit.  Dose guys love t' show how hard deir trucks kin 
pull on din's.

Ah prefa', oh, baby, howeva', fa' shure, t' rely on duh softa' side o' human 
nature.  Sheeeiit.  Addle-brained suckas hold some special place in our 
hearts, likes, wow, and Ah kin dig t' play on dese protective instincts.  If 
mah rod be buried beyond hope.  Sheeeiit. I'll display mah tongue in duh 
corna' o' mah mouth and begin frantically diggin' at duh snow drift wid mah 
hands until someone stops t' talk me out o' it.  If mah hands git cold and 
still nobody's stopped, fa' shure, I'll crawl haid-fust into duh hole I've 
dug and flail mah legs around likes Ah wuz likes, ya know, thrown clear o' 
duh wreck.  What it is, Mama!  Likes, ya know, dis works every time and 
gots'ta won me many some ditch-divin' 'shibishun ova' duh years.












Ah certainly hope I've enlarged yo' appreciashun o' dis undervalued creative 
medium.  What it is, Mama!  Ah warn against 'sercisin' dis art t' 'scess, 
dude, but when duh opportunity arises, dude, remember, dig dis: Hit 'a' hard, 
fa' shure, sink 'a' deep, fa' shure, git 'a' out, likes, and please, mostly, 
dive carefully.

...Bo, ya know?
