The only new car I have ever owned (and that was too many years ago) was itself barely a few months old when I got caught in a flooding incident! We (wife and baby Tom) had been invited to a Friday night, staff "do" at the office in Sudbury on a wet and bitterly cold November evening.
As we drove home - with Tom wrapped up and strapped in his (then new fangled type) child seat at the rear, we encountered some rather horrible, and fast running floods. At one point, and at a particularly remote location, the familiar road dipped into a fairly tight double bend. As I arrived, I realised that the water was clearly too deep to traverse, so elected to turn around for a diversion. Travelling a short distance back, I was horrified to discover that the water was rapidly rising behind me - and that we were now in fact stranded.
Back then, pre mobile phones of course, there was no way of summoning assistance. What was particularly worrying was that we were completely out of sight - on a fast disappearing "island" - and with a vulnerable baby on board!
I turned round again and looked hard at the only perceived exit - that double bend section. I knew that there was a decent slope at the far end to climb out, and that a post-and-wire fence running on the nearside of, and exactly parallel with the road for the whole distance might provide a reasonably good indication of the depth of water - as well as being able to use its location for the best alignment to take across the growing "lake", and grasp at any advantage of cambers in the submerged roadway!
I decided that if we stayed where we were, the rising water would almost certainly inundate us - and in the pitch dark, the chances of rescue were terribly slim - whereas, by taking a chance, driving on might give us a fighting chance of at least reaching the "visible" section, and a much shorter distance to wade on foot?!
Crazy!!
Knowing exactly where my air filter intake, battery terminals and distributor were located perhaps gave me a touch of confidence, so I pressed the accelerator hard to floor, and drove very slowly forward by slipping the clutch in first gear. The trick was to keep full pressure in the exhaust by revving hard and continuously - to prevent water from "backing" up the pipe, and to keep moving slowly enough not to generate the slightest hint of a "bow wave"! I wound my window fully down, and hung myself out as far as I could to observe our progress through!
The deep, rumbling and gushing noise from aft, and gentler gurgling all round was incredibly akin to the sounds of a large Broads cruiser approaching it's moorings!!
We kept going!
Unfortunately, the door seals didn't put up any sort of fight to keep us watertight though, and we, (apart from young, blissfully slumbering Thomas - perched high and dry in his seat) quickly ended up with our bums completely submerged.
I continued, reasoning that while the top half of our headlights remained just above the surface, we should be OK?!
As we rounded the final, left turn towards the straight - and safety - we were relieved to see a police car parked on the still dry slope - presumably to protect idiot drivers from their own stupidity?!
Onward we came... and spotting us, the copper jumped out of his car, walked down to the waters edge, and stood there, with what I might try to describe as an incredulous stance, observing our unlikely looking vessel getting ever nearer!
As we pulled up the "ramp", said copper stepped aside and turned, stooping towards my open window - but before he got the chance to speak, I shouted and gesticulated:
"Hold on mate... step back will you please... well back!"
I then opened my door... and a torrent of water poured forth!
He wasn't best pleased that I had made his feet soaking wet - but he did see the funny side - eventually!!
I drove the still soggy, salvaged wreck to the garage on the following Monday morning, and after much discussion - and a very reasonable offer as I recall, decided to pay for having it dried out from my own pocket, rather than face a longer term increase in premiums for an insurance claim.
At least it had all happened out in the open countryside - and the muck on the upholstery was only good, honest, Suffolk soil?!
Pete.
