Last week we were in need of both the cable guy and the car
guy. Bill called the car guy for me, and made arrangements for the big fat
stupid ungodly expensive repairs. We’ll come back to that.
The cable thing wasn’t a big deal at all… until it affected
me directly. When I sat down with my family to queue up a movie on demand, and it
didn’t work, I grabbed the phone and yelled at all the guys. Shy shmy, guys.
Fix mama’s movie.
While my car was under repair, I drove Bill’s truck and he
drove the westy. I like driving the truck, it’s powerful and roomy and fun. It’s
bigger than my car, but it’s not one of those huge monster trucks that you need
a step to get into. The only times I feel uneasy driving an unfamiliarly
big(ger) rig is when I have to park it, and when I have to merge on the freeway
during traffic. Traffic is a bitch no matter what you’re driving, but I’m good
enough at it. There are, however, a couple of locations where freeways meet
that can reduce me to that lame girl who wants her boyfriend to call the guy.
One of those hateful spots is traveled when we go to pick up
our girl from girl scouts every other Wednesday at 5:30. From Friar’s Road, you
get on the 163 south, but there are many many cranky people in line to merge onto
the 8 freeway in both directions, and you have to pass through all of those lanes
to stay on 163. You also have to stay in the right lane so you can exit on Washington
West, not University, not Washington East.
I know, I know.
So anyway. I went to get my girl on one of the days I was driving Bill's truck. It hadn't been bad when I dropped her off, but I should have factored in more time for the later time and traffic sitch. I was running late, and the traffic was awful.
I came around the entrance ramp off of Friar's, immediately scoping out the friendly looking vehicles to see where I might find a place to squeeze in and pass through to the next lane. This is where the minor difference in vehicle size got me.. .I just didn't feel sure about how much space I needed, so I was being extra cautious. I was also running out of time before I ended up stuck on the 8 gridlock, the victim of a crippling inability to merge. Lame.
I saw my moment, I edged in and just at the point when it became clear that I was in and no one was going to bash into my rear end.... the truck stalled.
It stalled! I was halfway merged and literally in between 3 freeway lanes, and the truck stopped going. It stalled. I was all like: "ohmygodohmygodohmygodOHMYGODnoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOO!" in an alarmingly screechy wail. This was pretty much the worst possible scenario, on so very many levels. No.
I was certifiably freaking out, but something else was also happening. Despite the incessant irritation of my whining, I knew what to do and I played through the scenario in my head. This would be bad for the traffic and I'd need help to get off the road, but I knew what I had to do.Radio off, hazards on, put it in neutral, eyes on the mirrors, try the ignition... pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease... it started.
Crisis averted. It was like a 10 second crisis, but it was a crisis fer sher. I waved my apologies, continued the merge, took a breath got my girl.
It really is nice to have a boy to help with some of the tasks I find unsavory, like calling the guy, but we all knew I could handle it, right?
Right?
Absolutely! You can absolutely handle anything.
ReplyDeleteBut holy Californians! I would have lost my mind in that stalling situation. Yikes. Way to play it cool, J.
Yikes, can't believe the truck stalled! SO glad it started right up. Phew! xo
ReplyDeleteWhen I had to get estimates on my fender-bender last year it was the scariest thing for me. I found out that all those "guys" are really sweet, especially to someone with a tad of grey hair, lol.... xo mom
ReplyDeleteEw my Gawd! I can't believe you stalled. On Washington West. Near University and the 10 and 163. In southern Cawlifowrnia. Ew my GAWD.
ReplyDeleteGlad you're, like, okaaaay.
xoxoEllie