In Deep
So I needed to get the RV closer to the clean-out pipe that would carry the contents of my RV tanks safely into my septic tank. I had driven on my front lawn before in my car. Nothing bad ever happened. It seemed solid enough when I walked on it. What could go wrong? So it was, that in that one infinitesimal moment when I knew without a doubt that it would work, I jumped into the RV, backed it down the driveway a bit, and pulled forward making a sharp right turn onto my lawn so that the left side of the RV and the tank drains, would line up next to the drain pipe.
Buried!
It was a short ride. As soon as I felt myself moving in slow motion, I stopped. I was afraid to look as I slowly opened the door and saw that the ground was closer to the step than when I got in. Now I was pretty certain what would happen next, but I had to try anyway. After a few attempts at moving in reverse, then forward again, I was skillfully able to get that running-board step smack down tight against the ground.
Giant Lawn Ornament
After doing everything I could to make sure that the RV was not going anywhere, I surveyed the damage. Yep, all six tires sunk to the axels in my front lawn, my RV sitting broadside to the house like a giant lawn ornament. A big, white, shining beacon shouting to every neighbor who drove past my house, "Look what I did!".
Well, there was nothing I could do about getting the RV out without help, but it was now within reach of the septic drain pipe. I figured I might as well dump it while it was there. I attached the hose, opened the valve, and watched as the contents of the black tank gushed out, filled the hose full, and stopped. Note to self: make sure your septic tank has enough capacity to accommodate the contents of what your pouring into it.
At this point, there was nothing left to do but give up in disgust for the day, go inside and forget that there was an RV parked 5 feet in front of the house, attached to the septic pipe with a hose full of... well, you get the picture.