Snodgrass East
Go East old man. Seemed like the thing to do at the time. The hounds were at my heels and a kind and generous sibling offered a roof to cover my head in the hills of North Carolina. My good friend (we'll call him Jimbo) offered to chauffeur me and my trusty bulldog Deuce to the promised land. An offer I couldn't refuse.
Not long after we were on our way in the giant Lincoln and had made our way across many states and finally crossed into North Carolina. At about 2 in the afternoon as we motored along interstate 20 several passing cars tried to get our attention, pointing to we knew not what. We stopped to make a visual inspection and saw that one rear tire seemed a little low. No problem, we'll stop at the next exit and pump 'er up. Except we didn't make it more than a mile or so further when - blam! - blowout on the left rear tire got us limping as fast as we could to the tiny shoulder of the highway as 18 wheelers closed in at 70 miles per hour. After a brief sigh of relief at escaping a Mack truck entering our trunk, we were still a wee bit uncomfortable with tons of cargo whizzing by us a few inches away, so we crept forward so that only our deceased tire was on the shoulder, the rest of the car over some nice lush weeds. As I fumbled for my cell phone and AAA card, Jimbo searched for tools in the trunk that might let us do the job ourselves. I dialed the 800 number on my card and after the obligatory 10 minute wait while they served other customers was greeted with "AAA Texas." (Crap!) Jimbo informs me we are missing the gadget that removes the lug nuts from the wheel. AAA Texas says "No problem, I'll transfer you to AAA Carolinas." Amazingly, they too have other customers who must be served (as my cellphone battery drains). At least we're right on the Interstate highway where surely a patrol car will appear soon (laugh now).
Another 10 minutes on hold and then 10 more minutes to provide all the information to prove, even though I am a Texan, I am a member of AAA. I told them my last known location was somewhere east of exit 23. At approximately 2:30 I am told someone will be there within the hour. (More laughter)
3:30 rolls around and we, of course, have not seen a tow truck, a patrol car, or a friendly (knight of the road) truck driver. My cellphone barely has enough juice to make new calls to AAA where each time I am assured the truck has been dispatched. 4:15: two hours and 15 minutes into the adventure a patrol car pulls over to assist. He has us call AAA and find what tow company was called. I do and the officer calls them and lets them know where we are. "Oh, they say 'we went to exit 23 and no one was there, so we left'" I have my first lesson that time and distance have different meanings in this part of the country.
Not long after we were on our way in the giant Lincoln and had made our way across many states and finally crossed into North Carolina. At about 2 in the afternoon as we motored along interstate 20 several passing cars tried to get our attention, pointing to we knew not what. We stopped to make a visual inspection and saw that one rear tire seemed a little low. No problem, we'll stop at the next exit and pump 'er up. Except we didn't make it more than a mile or so further when - blam! - blowout on the left rear tire got us limping as fast as we could to the tiny shoulder of the highway as 18 wheelers closed in at 70 miles per hour. After a brief sigh of relief at escaping a Mack truck entering our trunk, we were still a wee bit uncomfortable with tons of cargo whizzing by us a few inches away, so we crept forward so that only our deceased tire was on the shoulder, the rest of the car over some nice lush weeds. As I fumbled for my cell phone and AAA card, Jimbo searched for tools in the trunk that might let us do the job ourselves. I dialed the 800 number on my card and after the obligatory 10 minute wait while they served other customers was greeted with "AAA Texas." (Crap!) Jimbo informs me we are missing the gadget that removes the lug nuts from the wheel. AAA Texas says "No problem, I'll transfer you to AAA Carolinas." Amazingly, they too have other customers who must be served (as my cellphone battery drains). At least we're right on the Interstate highway where surely a patrol car will appear soon (laugh now).
Another 10 minutes on hold and then 10 more minutes to provide all the information to prove, even though I am a Texan, I am a member of AAA. I told them my last known location was somewhere east of exit 23. At approximately 2:30 I am told someone will be there within the hour. (More laughter)
3:30 rolls around and we, of course, have not seen a tow truck, a patrol car, or a friendly (knight of the road) truck driver. My cellphone barely has enough juice to make new calls to AAA where each time I am assured the truck has been dispatched. 4:15: two hours and 15 minutes into the adventure a patrol car pulls over to assist. He has us call AAA and find what tow company was called. I do and the officer calls them and lets them know where we are. "Oh, they say 'we went to exit 23 and no one was there, so we left'" I have my first lesson that time and distance have different meanings in this part of the country.
posted by revsnodgrass | 7:46 AM
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