Sunday I had to drive into the big city to go visit someone.
Usually Mr. Jenny goes along as my chauffeur, but since I know how hard Mr. Jenny has been working and because I am such a sweet and wonderful wife, I suggested he stay home and enjoy a day filled with relaxation.
He agreed to my plan.
And quite quickly, I might add.
"Okay, I'll stay home, but let me fill the car up with gas before you go."
I agreed to his plan.
And quite quickly, I might add.
If you live in a big city you know what the roads are like...lots of lanes...lots of traffic.
There I was...driving west and listening to Car Talk on the radio. I can't help myself, those guys just crack me up.
As I approached a six-lanes-in-one-direction tunnel, the car did a little lug-down thing (Yes, huh, that is a perfectly good car trouble description!). I turned off the radio and slowed down. It didn't happen again so I continued into the tunnel.
Suddenly the car started to sputter. I was in the middle lane. Acccckkkk!
My speed dropped dramatically and amidst much honking I limped across three lanes of traffic only to find there was no berm.
The car stalled out and I turned my blinkers on. The other drivers were obviously offended by my blinkers, because they continued to blare their horns at me as they passed.
I started the car and managed to drive a few more feet toward the exit, before the car stalled out again.
At this point I was seriously afraid for my life. Drivers on these freeways are crazy. I started, lurched and stalled myself almost up to a major exit and halfway onto a gravel berm before the car refused to go any further.
Darn, darn, darn.
I called Mr. Jenny. I said, "Get in your car and start driving toward the big city - NOW! Call me on your cell when you're on the way!" Mr.Jenny said, "Huh?" The reason he said "Huh?" is because I have laryngitis and can barely speak. I repeated myself several more times, hung up on him and then I dug around in my wallet to find my Triple A card.
All the while, vehicles were whizzing by blaring their horns at me.
I called Triple A and told the lady I needed help IMMEDIATELY. She said, "Huh?" It took repeating myself about five times before she could understand me. The whole time I was trying to make my voice loud enough to be heard, there was another cell phone ringing somewhere in the car. It was Mr. Jenny's. He had left his phone in the console after he went to fill the car up with gas. He said, "I can't leave, I don't know where you are."
I whispered as loudly as I could until he could finally understand where I had broken down.
With me so far?
Okay. Now understand that I live in a desert. I had been driving west in the early afternoon. It is a bazillion degrees outside. And the car won't start so there's no air conditioning. I am on a berm with no place to go and no possibility of shade and the sun is blazing into my car.
I have to pee.
I am freaking out.
I start freaking out even more when a guy on a cell phone driving a big truck almost rear ends me.
I call 9-1-1.
I try to tell the nice lady on the phone that I am in a trouble. She can't understand me. She keeps saying, "Give the phone to someone else in the car, I can't understand you." I say "There is nobody else in the car...I need help, please!" Finally she understands me and tells me to stay in the vehicle and she will dispatch a patrol car to help me. I tell her that the car is turning into an oven. "I understand, we'll send help as soon as we can!"
By this time I am not only freaking out but I actually think I am verging on heat stroke. And not in a good way.
It is now like a broiler in the car. I pour some of my drinking water over my head. It doesn't really help. It now feels like I am sitting in a sauna waiting to be rear-ended and unable to call for help because of my laryngitis.
I am annoyed.
A slight understatement.
And I still have to pee.
Finally, finally I see Mr. Jenny pull up behind me. He parks a few feet back and puts his blinkers on. He comes running up to the car. "Quick, go get in the air conditioning."
I try to tell him he can't park there because we'll both be rear ended, but he can't understand me.
Then the police pull up and turn their flashers on, so I get in the air conditioned car and about swoon with relief. My face is beet red. I feel like I am on fire. And not in a good way.
The tow truck pulls up. The big, burly guy tells Mr. Jenny, "I can't tow you from here. You'll all have to back up so we can push the car back."
Finally the car is loaded. "You need to follow me back to the repair shop," the big burly guy says.
By now several hours have elapsed. I tell Mr. Jenny, "I have to be in the big city before 4 pm!" Mr. Jenny says, "Well, I don't think it's gonna happen."
I say, 'Okay', but I think, 'We'll see about that'!
So we drive all the way back past where we live and another 10 miles East to get to the repair shop. Mr. Jenny finally stops to let me ... ummm.... tinkle... and we wait for the big, burly tow truck driver who, when he finally gets there, wants to tell us some long story about my trouble ticket having the numbers '666' in it.
Finally the car is unloaded.
I tell Mr. Jenny, "I'm dropping you at home and going to the big city before 4."
And he says, "No. You look horrible (hmmm...what's up with that anyway?) and you look sick from the heat and you are still bright red. I'll drive you."
It was a little after 3.
So we finally got to the big city with 20 minutes to spare. And I did my visiting thing. Which didn't work out super well because the person I was visiting kept saying, "Huh? I can't understand you."
And the moral of this story is...
Heck. I don't know.
I've just been through a major trauma here. I can't possibly be expected to think up story morals.