When a call comes across the scanner that a vehicle has been found submerged in a body of water, the first thing you do is try to figure out is where you’re going. When that doesn’t pan out, you pray for your iPhone battery to hold out and have someone guide you to your destination.
Such was the case Wednesday morning when this event took me around parts of Jasper County I have never before seen. Before I go any further, I should let you know the vehicle was pulled from the South Skunk River with no occupants and was apparently stolen from Newton earlier this week. (You can find more details on that with the news story.)
My breaking news reporter brought the incident to my attention as she was walking out the door for an appointment with Skiff CEO Brett Altman. Since we had just met with Altman and some of his team members Tuesday (and they provided a really fantastic lunch. Hospital food = delicious. Who knew?) I decided it would be best she didn’t stand him up. I volunteered to take the assignment.
My destination, I thought, was in rural Lynnville. Having never been to Lynnville, I was pleasantly surprised to learn it has its own exit off of Interstate 80. (Yes, I’ve apparently overlooked that for several decades.) And what a nice exit it is. Highway T38 is beautifully paved and is surrounded by abundant fields and rolling hills. My folks reside in rural Greene County, Iowa, which is as flat as the day is long. I’m still taken aback at some of the natural beauty in this area.
Once I made my way past Lynnville and onto the gravel roads, my assignment became more complicated. I couldn’t find a sheriff’s deputy for the life of me, and certainly no vehicle submerged in water.
What I did find was a super nice county road crew that was rebuilding part of South 120th Avenue East (I hope I have that right. There were so many gravel roads. So many.) Not only did they pause from their lunch break to try to help me, they also let me drive through their road project — twice.
While I love my phone, and the map on my phone, that feature wasn’t available in that area. Neither was Siri. In the end, I had talked to Mike Mendenhall nine times before we finally discovered I was in the wrong area. We discussed having him head to the scene in rural Monroe or just forgetting it all together.
Although I had been on the road for more than an hour, and was hangry because I hadn’t had lunch, I was determined to find it. (Hangry is a made up word that means hungry and angry. I was delighted when earlier this year researchers discovered people do get mad — or hangry — when they haven’t eaten. I’m the worst. My husband can verify that.)
So by the time I arrived in the right place, I had never been so happy to see a sheriff’s deputy in my life. I spotted the patrol vehicle under the bridge that spans the South Skunk River in rural Monroe; locals apparently call it Byer’s Bridge.
Since I’ve been in a manager’s position in a newsroom for many years now, I’ve often instructed reporters there are two things you must come to work with on a daily basis: a full tank of gas and an alternate pair of shoes.
As you may have guessed, I didn’t take my own advice — the riverbank was muddy and I was dressed in high heels. So I did what any respectable woman would do. I tiptoed to the driest areas and got the shots I needed.
I would later tweet a photo of my muddy heels to a former colleague who was forever clad in adorable shoes, but almost always on the way to the scene of breaking news. I was pleased to learn she now keeps a pair of sneakers in her car.
As for me, I will be grabbing a spare pair of shoes and tracking down one of those old-fashioned paper maps. You never know what tomorrow will bring.