In contrast to the plane, which symbolizes the narrator’s desire to fly above his problems, mud functions as a symbol of those problems. It’s no coincidence that it is Freddy’s stepfather Ivan, who is continually finding himself in trouble (often of his own making), who first gets the old pickup truck mired in the mud and has to ask the narrator, Freddy, and Clark outside to help him get it free.
The boys’ approach to handling the mud also symbolizes the way they approach life problems. Ivan just wants everyone to get in and push, but the practical Clark comes up with a strategy: to dig out ruts so they can lay down wood to provide traction for the tires. When Clark approaches the truck, he then tries to tip toe through the muck to stay clean. But before long, he realizes there is no escaping the mess, and soon he is up to his ankles in the thick mud. The other boys follow suit, even kneeling in mud to gain traction in their digging. By the end of the process, they are completed covered. In this way, the mud is an equalizer for the three boys. No matter how they choose to approach the messy task at hand, they all get caked in muck.
To get the work done and get unstuck, they all must lean into the mud. The same is true of pain. No one gets through life unscathed, regardless of their principles, status, or background. The narrator learns this in the final scene of the story when he walks Clark home. Throughout the story, he has thought of Clark as lucky and happy, but he observes his friend’s fear over his mother’s wrath at his muddied clothing when Clark begs him to come to dinner to deflect her anger. He also sees the depth of Clark’s apprehension in the way he drags slowly through town, drawing out the walk home. Just like himself and Freddy, the narrator finally understands that wealth and appearance have not preserved Clark from his own problems; life is messy for everyone.
Mud Quotes in Flyboys
This was a very unlucky family. Bats took over their attic. Their cars laid transmissions like eggs. They got caught switching license plates and dumping garbage illegally and owing back taxes, or at least Ivan did. Ivan was Freddy’s stepfather and a world of bad luck all by himself. He wasn’t vicious or evil, just full of cute ideas that got him in trouble and make things even worse than they already were…Tanker was the only one who could stand up to Ivan, and not just because he was bigger and more competent. Ivan had a soft spot for him. After the accident he took to his bed for almost a week, then vanished.
Such panic…where did it come from? It couldn’t have been just the situation at Freddy’s. The shakiness of my own family was becoming more and more apparent. At the time I didn’t admit to this knowledge, not for a moment, but it was always there, lingering in the gut: a sourness of foreboding, a cramp of alarm at any sign of misfortune or weakness in others, as if such things were catching.
“Past her prime—has been for years.”
“Yessir,” Freddy said. “She’s long in the tooth and that’s a fact.”
“Ready for the pasture,” I said.
“Over the hill,” Freddy said.
“That’s it exactly,” Ivan said. “I just can’t bring myself to sell her.” His jaw started quaking and I thought with horror that he was about to cry. But he didn’t. He caught his lower lip under his teeth, sucked it musingly, and pushed it out again.
It was impossible to dig and keep your feet, especially as we got deeper, Finally I gave up and knelt down to work—I got more leverage that way—and Clark and Freddy followed suit. I was sheathed in mud up to my waist and elbows. My condition was hopeless, so I stopped trying to spare myself and just let go. I surrendered to the spirit of the mud. It’s fair to say I wallowed.
As we crossed the park he asked me to have dinner at his place so he wouldn’t get skinned alive about his clothes…Clark took his time on the walk home, looking in shopwindows and inspecting cars in the lots we passed. When we finally got to the house it was all lit up and music was playing. Even with the windows closed we could hear strains of it from the bottom of the sidewalk.
Clark stopped. He stood there, listening. “South Pacific,” he said. “Good. She’s happy.”