One day I decided to take a little trip up a dirt road in the mountains. We had a good 3ft of packed snow on the ground. I took a right on a cutoff road and purposely ignored the "Road Not Maintained During Winter" sign. I was driving a Jeep, I wouldn't get stuck. I kept following the truck tracks that were already there, they ended about a mile up and were replaced by SNOWMOBILE tracks, I should've seen it there. But like a dummy I kept on pushing. The snow was welly packed and my Jeep drove on top of it, no big deal. I was behind a hill where there was shade when I emerged from the behind the hill it was sunny and flat, with deep snowdrifts. As soon as I started to drive over the biggest one, the sun had been there for a while, plop the Jeep sank down to the the axles in 6 ft of packed snow, ****! I tried all that I could to get out but the tires just kept digging deeper, it was high centered. I finally gave in and had to face one of my most dreadful fears, having to call dad to come rescue me with his 1973 Ford Bronco. His Bronco was ahead of my Jeep as far a recovery gear goes, winch, chains, shovel, and everything else. He just thought that seeing my Jeep sunken into the snowdrift was the funniest thing on earth, "didn't ya notice the snowmobile tracks back there? Good thing Ford created the Bronco to go rescue those poor little Heeps." Oh well, I've had to rescue him several times, that is the only time he ever got the opportunity to pull my Jeep out, I've pulled him out like 3 times already!