If there was a day that I would not condemn myself for using some colorful language, yesterday would have been it.
About 30 miles into my journey to school (about half way), I hear THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK coming from the front left area of my car. I think to myself "This can't be good." I pull over, and with one deft motion, I pull open the door handle, press the door lock button, and get out of the car. Without my keys. Which are in the ignition.
Of course, I do not realise this until I try to get my coat out of the door as traffic whizzed by at 75 miles an hour two feet from me. I walk around the car frantically, trying to show some kind stranger that I need assistance, considering everything I have is in the car (read: cell phone). After about two minutes of this, I see in front of me that an SUV is in reverse on the shoulder coming toward me. I begin to cry and pray that this person is not an ax murderer.
My rescuer came with a cell phone and a kind spirit. I called the hubs, explained the situation, and then while he turned around to go back home, I called school to let them know that their new English teacher will be late on her first day. Mr. Discovery and I tried the over the phone keyless entry trick to no avail, so he had to drive 30 miles to come save me, calling a few times on his way to make sure I had a jack and tire iron for changing the tire.
My rescuer stayed with me until a State Trooper arrived. At this point, the whole ordeal began to seem quite humourous. The State Trooper told me to wait in my car to get warm, until I kindly reminded him that part of the dilemma was that I could NOT, in fact, get in the car because my keys WERE, in fact, in the ignition. So begins my first ever adventure in a cop car. I got to see how the radar works, and I got to see my incident on his computer. Awesome.
Mr. Discovery arrived after about 5 to 10 minutes in the cop car. We got into the car. We took all of my extremely heavy boxes of books for school and placed them on the side of the road. We lifted the flap that covered my spare tire, jack, and tire iron. Oh wait, my tire iron, the one I'd told my husband I had, was NOT there. Awesome.
Mr. State Trooper then said that he lived five miles away and could get his toolbox to get my wheel off. The situation was no longer humourous. Nor was it humourous when he had to step on the wrench just to get the lugnuts off. They were extremely tight. It also wasn't humourous when my spare was basically flat. Or when we had to drive 5 miles to the next exit to put air in it. Or when I had to drive 50 miles an hour on the interstate.
Luckily, my dad was able to pick me up from the garage and take me to school, at which point I was only two hours late. The situation was funny again, until...
I get a call from the garage. "Ma'am we are having trouble finding the front left wheel. Can you call back and let us know where to find it?"
"Why yes, kind sir, I can tell you that it is in Richmond because my husband, brilliant man that he is, took the wheel back to Richmond with him." Awesome.
Well, the husband drove it back into Charlottesville, gave it to the garage, and I got two new lovely tires on my car. Also, we had dinner at Asian Fusion, because it was getting late, I didn't want to cook, and that place is right next to the garage and its awesome.
The ironic part (oh wait... "There's more?" you ask?) I was going into the garage on the 17th to get new tires. They just couldn't wait that long.
It's funny again. :-)