The Day NASCAR Saved My Life
Or Chicken Soup for the Soul - Part 2
This is such a great story, I am busting at the seams to tell it. So I had planned to meet Deb and Richard for a nice, low-key dinner at Ruby Tuesdays in Raleigh. They had come down for work for the day, and we were closer together than we usually are, so we wanted to take advantage of the proximity and spend some quality time together.
I leave G-town around 3:30. I had just turned onto I-85N when I started feeling a 'vibration in the left rear tire.' The girl part of my brain is thinking, oh, the road must be rough. The NASCAR part of my brain has red flashy lights going off. 'Vibration in the left rear' means I have a tire going down, and at the speed I'm going it's about to go flying. Tony Eury, Jr (Dale's old crew chief). would have said 'Bring her down pit road,' but I'm not on a racetrack, so, I pull over at the side of the road, determined to be a strong, independent girl getting ready to change a tire. Not my first time, mind you.
I get out of the passenger side of the car (I'm not suicidal or stupid), and start checking the tires - right sides: fine. Left rear: had a hole about the size of a tomato, with the steal chords showing. Yeah, dry rot got to that one and it just won't work. Not 30 more miles to Raleigh, and definitely not 90 miles back. I open the trunk and start putting my recyclables and boxes into the back seat and open the trunk bottom: hurray! there's a doughnut spare tire and a jack. I see a rod to crank the jack - which I toss on the ground in anticipation of changing the tire. I do not see a tire iron.
I call Deb to let her know I won't be making it to Raleigh by 4:45. 'Do you have roadside assistance?' - 'No. Can I call 911?' - 'Well, they're for emergencies.' Funny, I thought that's what this was. Nevermind. She says, 'great, let us know once you get going,' only to call back and say the husband said 'we're coming to you.' Where am I? No clue. Northbound 85 south of Durham. 'Well, Heidi, there are these things called mile markers...' - 'Well, Richard, I don't see one.' Cell phone battery beeps it's low. Great. When it rains it pours.
State troopers anyone? Anywhere? Nope, not when you need one. Am I scared? No. It's the South. I've never been scared. D.C.? Different story. But back to the story at hand. I decide to drive on the shoulder until I see a mile marker. 157 here we go. I get out and sit on the embankment to await my rescue. Until Joe Goodole'boy stops by. He pulls up behind me; the windshield of his car had a sticker that read "Git er done." I knew I was in good hands, but I wasn't really in the mood to be done, so I told him help was on the way. Apparently he had been driving by a few times to see if someone would help me. His momma done raised him right.
He did mention the exit was about a mile up the road, so I decide to go for it. Well, one mile turns into three, and I run out of shoulder twice. Once, stuck behind another broken down car, and once two tenths of a mile before the exit, when the roadside barriers are flush to the right lane. Both times, I decide to go down I-85 at 20 mph with my flashers on, squealing 'please don't hit meee' - never made it out of 2nd gear. But I did make it off the exit in one piece. PTL.
I pull over in the parking lot of an old restaurant and call Deb to tell her where I am. I'm hot, I'm sweaty, I'm hungry (well, not that hungry, I had had a great lunch with Heather at PF Changs, but whenever there is uncertainty about food, I get hungry). They finally make it, we fix the tire and go home? Ha! You wish.
Deb stated the obvious with 'well, you do have some rubber coming loose off that tire.' No kidding. The top layer of about a quarter of the tire has come loose, and steal chords are sparkling in the evening sun. Richard goes to work on the spare. In the meantime, I have realized that the cranking rod for the jack is still by the side of the road on I-85. 'Do you have any tools in your car?' - 'Well,' I say, digging through my emergency kit, 'I have jumper cables and a blanket and a funnel and a rain coat and a fire extinguisher and a pencil sharpener and...' - 'But no tools?' No tools, so he pulls out the tire iron and rod of their car. At this point I am super-excited about this adventure, and getting to spend some extra time with Deb. There for a while I was even posing next to the tire. Richard lowers the jack only to find - surprise! - the spare is flat.
'But she has a filler-upper in her car!' exclaims Deb. I have no idea what she's talking about. Apparently, earlier, when I was looking through my car kit for tools she saw a 'filler-upper.' Now, I know I used all the fix-a-flat, cause that's how I roll. I never replace the car fluids I've used. In fact, I have a bunch of empty oil bottles in my trunk, because I can't figure out how to dispose of them properly, so I haven't disposed of them at all. But I digress. Digging through the kit one more time, we find an air pump I never knew I had. Plugs into the cigarette lighter, pumps up the tire - AH-mazing. 'Deb, do you know who gave me that car kit?' - 'I did!' I know! (because I used to drain the battery by leaving the light on in the '93 Mazda, which did NOT beep when you did that), and she gave me the hated tracfone, without which I would not have been able to call them for help today.
I'm thinking, let's get this tire fixed, so I don't have to drive home I-85 at 45 mph. Deb's on the blackberry type thing she has, Richard decides to go inside the old restaurant (doors wide open) to ask for directions. After a minute he comes back and says, 'Let's get the hell out of here right now. Get in the car and start driving.' I'm thinking, oh crap, there's a dude with a gun. I mean, Deb had asked me, 'are you at a safe place?,' and I was thinking, well, it looks like it used to be a nice restaurant before it shut down. Next to the ABC store, and, well, it's the SOUTH. I'd never heard Richard say 'hell' in front of Deb, so I get into the car, lock the door and Ease on Down, Ease on Down the Road.
A few miles up the road we stop at High Tech Tire and Auto. The bays are open, so I'm thinking, great, it's 5:30 pm and they're still open. No such luck. 'We've been closed for 15 minutes and we don't have that type of tire.' Their puppy Duke was way cute. Dude behind the counter said, you can try Tire King. I say, 'do you have a number for them?' He pulls out the phone book. Richard calls, and they say they'll wait for us. We head down two more miles into Duke territory. When we get to the tire place, I don't even care. I pay just under $100 for a new tire and when we sit down in the waiting area, we see the mechanics lunch box on the ground outside the garage. He had been on his way home, and his little daughter is sitting with us, watching cartoons.
I feel humbled. Mrs. Rutledge at Tire King on Lasalie Street in Durham is a gentle soul. It emanated from her core. A single girl, stranded 63 miles from home appreciates her willingness to stay the extra half hour. I know it wasn't for the money. She is just good people. And Mr. Albright, the mechanic, who could have been spending time with his little girl at home, was kind enough to fix me up.
We finally got to our dinner; Mrs. Rutledge had recommended the crab cakes at Bennet Point Grille, and after I cleaned up and got a sip of water, that's what Deb and Richard ordered. I had some kind of delicious pasta...which I will enjoy again for lunch tomorrow :) I asked Richard what the heck he saw in that house that had him curse, and he said, 'nobody far and wide, but rows and rows of washers, dryers and ice-boxes (which is Oklahomian for refrigerator), so I knew there was either a person with a gun or the cops coming any minute.' Good times.
Now that I'm lying in bed after a nice hot shower and sipping on a chilled glass of chardonnay, I know that life is good. And there are good people in it, even in the most remote places. This evening went nothing like I had planned it, but it reminded me of the wonderful things in life. The good Samaritans, the funny coincidences, and the good karma that will get you. My 'fortune' at lunch today? 'You'll soon emerge victorious from the maze you've been traveling.'
I like it.
I'm ready.
This is such a great story, I am busting at the seams to tell it. So I had planned to meet Deb and Richard for a nice, low-key dinner at Ruby Tuesdays in Raleigh. They had come down for work for the day, and we were closer together than we usually are, so we wanted to take advantage of the proximity and spend some quality time together.
I leave G-town around 3:30. I had just turned onto I-85N when I started feeling a 'vibration in the left rear tire.' The girl part of my brain is thinking, oh, the road must be rough. The NASCAR part of my brain has red flashy lights going off. 'Vibration in the left rear' means I have a tire going down, and at the speed I'm going it's about to go flying. Tony Eury, Jr (Dale's old crew chief). would have said 'Bring her down pit road,' but I'm not on a racetrack, so, I pull over at the side of the road, determined to be a strong, independent girl getting ready to change a tire. Not my first time, mind you.
I get out of the passenger side of the car (I'm not suicidal or stupid), and start checking the tires - right sides: fine. Left rear: had a hole about the size of a tomato, with the steal chords showing. Yeah, dry rot got to that one and it just won't work. Not 30 more miles to Raleigh, and definitely not 90 miles back. I open the trunk and start putting my recyclables and boxes into the back seat and open the trunk bottom: hurray! there's a doughnut spare tire and a jack. I see a rod to crank the jack - which I toss on the ground in anticipation of changing the tire. I do not see a tire iron.
I call Deb to let her know I won't be making it to Raleigh by 4:45. 'Do you have roadside assistance?' - 'No. Can I call 911?' - 'Well, they're for emergencies.' Funny, I thought that's what this was. Nevermind. She says, 'great, let us know once you get going,' only to call back and say the husband said 'we're coming to you.' Where am I? No clue. Northbound 85 south of Durham. 'Well, Heidi, there are these things called mile markers...' - 'Well, Richard, I don't see one.' Cell phone battery beeps it's low. Great. When it rains it pours.
State troopers anyone? Anywhere? Nope, not when you need one. Am I scared? No. It's the South. I've never been scared. D.C.? Different story. But back to the story at hand. I decide to drive on the shoulder until I see a mile marker. 157 here we go. I get out and sit on the embankment to await my rescue. Until Joe Goodole'boy stops by. He pulls up behind me; the windshield of his car had a sticker that read "Git er done." I knew I was in good hands, but I wasn't really in the mood to be done, so I told him help was on the way. Apparently he had been driving by a few times to see if someone would help me. His momma done raised him right.
He did mention the exit was about a mile up the road, so I decide to go for it. Well, one mile turns into three, and I run out of shoulder twice. Once, stuck behind another broken down car, and once two tenths of a mile before the exit, when the roadside barriers are flush to the right lane. Both times, I decide to go down I-85 at 20 mph with my flashers on, squealing 'please don't hit meee' - never made it out of 2nd gear. But I did make it off the exit in one piece. PTL.
I pull over in the parking lot of an old restaurant and call Deb to tell her where I am. I'm hot, I'm sweaty, I'm hungry (well, not that hungry, I had had a great lunch with Heather at PF Changs, but whenever there is uncertainty about food, I get hungry). They finally make it, we fix the tire and go home? Ha! You wish.
Deb stated the obvious with 'well, you do have some rubber coming loose off that tire.' No kidding. The top layer of about a quarter of the tire has come loose, and steal chords are sparkling in the evening sun. Richard goes to work on the spare. In the meantime, I have realized that the cranking rod for the jack is still by the side of the road on I-85. 'Do you have any tools in your car?' - 'Well,' I say, digging through my emergency kit, 'I have jumper cables and a blanket and a funnel and a rain coat and a fire extinguisher and a pencil sharpener and...' - 'But no tools?' No tools, so he pulls out the tire iron and rod of their car. At this point I am super-excited about this adventure, and getting to spend some extra time with Deb. There for a while I was even posing next to the tire. Richard lowers the jack only to find - surprise! - the spare is flat.
'But she has a filler-upper in her car!' exclaims Deb. I have no idea what she's talking about. Apparently, earlier, when I was looking through my car kit for tools she saw a 'filler-upper.' Now, I know I used all the fix-a-flat, cause that's how I roll. I never replace the car fluids I've used. In fact, I have a bunch of empty oil bottles in my trunk, because I can't figure out how to dispose of them properly, so I haven't disposed of them at all. But I digress. Digging through the kit one more time, we find an air pump I never knew I had. Plugs into the cigarette lighter, pumps up the tire - AH-mazing. 'Deb, do you know who gave me that car kit?' - 'I did!' I know! (because I used to drain the battery by leaving the light on in the '93 Mazda, which did NOT beep when you did that), and she gave me the hated tracfone, without which I would not have been able to call them for help today.
I'm thinking, let's get this tire fixed, so I don't have to drive home I-85 at 45 mph. Deb's on the blackberry type thing she has, Richard decides to go inside the old restaurant (doors wide open) to ask for directions. After a minute he comes back and says, 'Let's get the hell out of here right now. Get in the car and start driving.' I'm thinking, oh crap, there's a dude with a gun. I mean, Deb had asked me, 'are you at a safe place?,' and I was thinking, well, it looks like it used to be a nice restaurant before it shut down. Next to the ABC store, and, well, it's the SOUTH. I'd never heard Richard say 'hell' in front of Deb, so I get into the car, lock the door and Ease on Down, Ease on Down the Road.
A few miles up the road we stop at High Tech Tire and Auto. The bays are open, so I'm thinking, great, it's 5:30 pm and they're still open. No such luck. 'We've been closed for 15 minutes and we don't have that type of tire.' Their puppy Duke was way cute. Dude behind the counter said, you can try Tire King. I say, 'do you have a number for them?' He pulls out the phone book. Richard calls, and they say they'll wait for us. We head down two more miles into Duke territory. When we get to the tire place, I don't even care. I pay just under $100 for a new tire and when we sit down in the waiting area, we see the mechanics lunch box on the ground outside the garage. He had been on his way home, and his little daughter is sitting with us, watching cartoons.
I feel humbled. Mrs. Rutledge at Tire King on Lasalie Street in Durham is a gentle soul. It emanated from her core. A single girl, stranded 63 miles from home appreciates her willingness to stay the extra half hour. I know it wasn't for the money. She is just good people. And Mr. Albright, the mechanic, who could have been spending time with his little girl at home, was kind enough to fix me up.
We finally got to our dinner; Mrs. Rutledge had recommended the crab cakes at Bennet Point Grille, and after I cleaned up and got a sip of water, that's what Deb and Richard ordered. I had some kind of delicious pasta...which I will enjoy again for lunch tomorrow :) I asked Richard what the heck he saw in that house that had him curse, and he said, 'nobody far and wide, but rows and rows of washers, dryers and ice-boxes (which is Oklahomian for refrigerator), so I knew there was either a person with a gun or the cops coming any minute.' Good times.
Now that I'm lying in bed after a nice hot shower and sipping on a chilled glass of chardonnay, I know that life is good. And there are good people in it, even in the most remote places. This evening went nothing like I had planned it, but it reminded me of the wonderful things in life. The good Samaritans, the funny coincidences, and the good karma that will get you. My 'fortune' at lunch today? 'You'll soon emerge victorious from the maze you've been traveling.'
I like it.
I'm ready.
I laughed so hard I cried while reading this! Have you thought about going from writing about unemployment in Germany to writing "slice of life" humor books? Fifty Acres and a Poodle comes to mind with your writing style.
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