I need this like I need a hole in my head
Warning: Extremely long post!
I had so enjoyed my week off from work. My "vacation" week. Not that I went away anywhere or did anything special. I just hung around the house, playing the Sims 2 and referee-ing the kids' fights.
But it all ended way to quick, in my opinion. So last night, it was off to work for me. I left the house at a reasonable time. Even had time to stop at DD's for coffee. So here I am, cruising along....exiting from the express lanes to the local lanes on the interstate and I start to hear this outrageously loud noise. I figured it was the car in the next lane. Must have an engine problem.
Nope. It was me. The lady in that car was nice enough to signal to me that I had a flat tire. So I pulled over to the shoulder -- and by pulling over to the shoulder, I mean I have to cross three lanes of highway and find a place to stop between the construction barrels the highway department has sitting on the shoulder for absolutely no reason at all. Well, let me tell you that "flat" tire is an extreme understatement. It's like saying Bill Gates has "some" money. It was flat out, no-bones about it, blown out. Ah, crap.
OK, I can deal with it. Not the end of the world -- yet. I'll get to that later. So, I call the hubby. Tell him I have to call AAA, that I have a blown-out tire. No problem, let me just get my floor jack and I'll drive out to change it for you he says. Mind you, I'm already 30 miles from home and there is a severe thunderstorm heading out my way (I know, because hubby called to tell me we got hit with it at home). He's such a sweetheart [insert sheepish smile here]. A royal pain in the ass sometimes, but he does know how take care of his family. Next I call work to tell than I will be late.
Well, it took hubby about 45-50 minutes to get to me. Not bad considering he hadn't a clue where he was going, it was pouring rain and he got snarled in a post-MVA traffic jam in which 1 of 3 interstate lanes was shut down. He, of course, changes it in record time -- he does have just a bit of experience with that sort of thing [sarcasm -- go back to the Bill Gates line].
Wonderful, now I'm on my way. Get to work late, have to race to get caught up, yada, yada, yada...Ended up leaving work late because I had an admission at 6:30am. OK, great, now I can get home and get some sleep before I have to be up this afternoon.
Wrong again! I'm driving down the interstate, and just as I'm about to cross from the locals to the express lanes, a woman drives by, trying to signal me. Seemed like she was telling me to pull over. Well, I'm driving slow (the truck has an injured paw, ya' know) and on the phone, so I assumed she was just pissed. Curiosity -- mixed with a little fear -- gets the better of me, so I pull over and get out to take a look. Well, that fucking spare is almost flat! I won't bother to mention the expletives that came out of my mouth.
Back in the truck...call hubby to tell him...he says drive really slow, get off the highway and find a gas station and put air in the tire. Now, I just don't drive slow. For me, driving slow on the highway is like doing 65-70mph. Don't even ask what I consider fast...NASCAR anyone?
I'm doing 40mph with my hazards on, limping the poor truck down the interstate to the nearest gas station...put some air in the tire...looks better, so on my way I go. Now I'm doing about 50-55mph. Even the slow drivers are passing me (yes, I was in the right lane...left lane dicks are my absolute worst pet peeve). All of a sudden, I notice my hood isn't completely latched. I can see it's bouncing a little. What the hell? Pull over...get out...press the lever under the front of the hood...lift up the hood...slam hood back down. No good. Oh, the one latch, the one where you press the lever release under the hood works. But the second latch, the one that keeps the hood securely down and completely shut isn't working. Fuckin-A.
I know what the problem is. The latch is rusted. R had the same thing happen to his truck this past fall. Had to have the latch replaced. And his truck is very similar to mine -- same make, same chassis, many of the same components. Only his truck is a pick up while mine is an SUV. And his is one year older than mine. He also has a bigger engine. But that's only because I opted for a smaller engine, thinking it would be a little better on gas mileage (as if 0.8L difference is really going to matter!)
Manage to slam it down shut. Now I'm on my way...again! Toddling down the road and "pop", the latch releases again. Again, I pull over and slam the hood several times until it latches. Again, I climb back into the truck and pull out onto the highway. Doesn't last long before I notice the damn things loose again. [Grr-rr-rr!]
Of course, by now some time has elapsed and I haven't sent R a text message that I'm home. So, naturally he calls me because he worries more than any mother I know, myself included. I tell him about my hood problem. He about has a shit-fit, telling me to slow down because if the hood comes unlatched completely I'm in big trouble (yeah, no shit, Sherlock) and I'm having more problems today, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, and fuck you too. All I want to do is get home and go to sleep and I'm only half-way home yet.
I spent the rest of my drive going 35-40mph. Even the really slow drivers are driving faster than me. This is not only frustrating, it's downright embarrassing. Tandem dump trucks are driving faster than me -- uphill! We all know how slow those suckers move. Shit. I need this like I need a hole in my head.
Well, now I'm home and I need a bit of shut eye. And, oh, by the way: hubby dropped my tire off on his way to work to get it replaced. Isn't he divine?
I had so enjoyed my week off from work. My "vacation" week. Not that I went away anywhere or did anything special. I just hung around the house, playing the Sims 2 and referee-ing the kids' fights.
But it all ended way to quick, in my opinion. So last night, it was off to work for me. I left the house at a reasonable time. Even had time to stop at DD's for coffee. So here I am, cruising along....exiting from the express lanes to the local lanes on the interstate and I start to hear this outrageously loud noise. I figured it was the car in the next lane. Must have an engine problem.
Nope. It was me. The lady in that car was nice enough to signal to me that I had a flat tire. So I pulled over to the shoulder -- and by pulling over to the shoulder, I mean I have to cross three lanes of highway and find a place to stop between the construction barrels the highway department has sitting on the shoulder for absolutely no reason at all. Well, let me tell you that "flat" tire is an extreme understatement. It's like saying Bill Gates has "some" money. It was flat out, no-bones about it, blown out. Ah, crap.
OK, I can deal with it. Not the end of the world -- yet. I'll get to that later. So, I call the hubby. Tell him I have to call AAA, that I have a blown-out tire. No problem, let me just get my floor jack and I'll drive out to change it for you he says. Mind you, I'm already 30 miles from home and there is a severe thunderstorm heading out my way (I know, because hubby called to tell me we got hit with it at home). He's such a sweetheart [insert sheepish smile here]. A royal pain in the ass sometimes, but he does know how take care of his family. Next I call work to tell than I will be late.
Well, it took hubby about 45-50 minutes to get to me. Not bad considering he hadn't a clue where he was going, it was pouring rain and he got snarled in a post-MVA traffic jam in which 1 of 3 interstate lanes was shut down. He, of course, changes it in record time -- he does have just a bit of experience with that sort of thing [sarcasm -- go back to the Bill Gates line].
Wonderful, now I'm on my way. Get to work late, have to race to get caught up, yada, yada, yada...Ended up leaving work late because I had an admission at 6:30am. OK, great, now I can get home and get some sleep before I have to be up this afternoon.
Wrong again! I'm driving down the interstate, and just as I'm about to cross from the locals to the express lanes, a woman drives by, trying to signal me. Seemed like she was telling me to pull over. Well, I'm driving slow (the truck has an injured paw, ya' know) and on the phone, so I assumed she was just pissed. Curiosity -- mixed with a little fear -- gets the better of me, so I pull over and get out to take a look. Well, that fucking spare is almost flat! I won't bother to mention the expletives that came out of my mouth.
Back in the truck...call hubby to tell him...he says drive really slow, get off the highway and find a gas station and put air in the tire. Now, I just don't drive slow. For me, driving slow on the highway is like doing 65-70mph. Don't even ask what I consider fast...NASCAR anyone?
I'm doing 40mph with my hazards on, limping the poor truck down the interstate to the nearest gas station...put some air in the tire...looks better, so on my way I go. Now I'm doing about 50-55mph. Even the slow drivers are passing me (yes, I was in the right lane...left lane dicks are my absolute worst pet peeve). All of a sudden, I notice my hood isn't completely latched. I can see it's bouncing a little. What the hell? Pull over...get out...press the lever under the front of the hood...lift up the hood...slam hood back down. No good. Oh, the one latch, the one where you press the lever release under the hood works. But the second latch, the one that keeps the hood securely down and completely shut isn't working. Fuckin-A.
I know what the problem is. The latch is rusted. R had the same thing happen to his truck this past fall. Had to have the latch replaced. And his truck is very similar to mine -- same make, same chassis, many of the same components. Only his truck is a pick up while mine is an SUV. And his is one year older than mine. He also has a bigger engine. But that's only because I opted for a smaller engine, thinking it would be a little better on gas mileage (as if 0.8L difference is really going to matter!)
Manage to slam it down shut. Now I'm on my way...again! Toddling down the road and "pop", the latch releases again. Again, I pull over and slam the hood several times until it latches. Again, I climb back into the truck and pull out onto the highway. Doesn't last long before I notice the damn things loose again. [Grr-rr-rr!]
Of course, by now some time has elapsed and I haven't sent R a text message that I'm home. So, naturally he calls me because he worries more than any mother I know, myself included. I tell him about my hood problem. He about has a shit-fit, telling me to slow down because if the hood comes unlatched completely I'm in big trouble (yeah, no shit, Sherlock) and I'm having more problems today, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, and fuck you too. All I want to do is get home and go to sleep and I'm only half-way home yet.
I spent the rest of my drive going 35-40mph. Even the really slow drivers are driving faster than me. This is not only frustrating, it's downright embarrassing. Tandem dump trucks are driving faster than me -- uphill! We all know how slow those suckers move. Shit. I need this like I need a hole in my head.
Well, now I'm home and I need a bit of shut eye. And, oh, by the way: hubby dropped my tire off on his way to work to get it replaced. Isn't he divine?
posted by Supermom at 8:36 AM
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