My drive back to college from Seattle is about 12 hours on a normal day. After Christmas break this year, it turned into a 15 hour struggle because of snow and icy road conditions. I had to take the
liberty of putting on and taking off my tire chains… by myself. The chains may have been the start of the problems that were to come.
The day after I returned I had to work until 9 p.m. in a town that is about 20 minutes from my apartment. When I left work the snow
was coming down hard and it was definitely below zero.
As I got in my car to embark into
the freezing tundra, I knew something was off. My car was pulling hard to the
left and trying to take control of my steering. Without wanting to get out and check the tires in the bitter cold, I decided I would keep driving carefully and simply try to
make it home.
As I drove, the pulling got worse,
weird noises were coming from my driver’s side front wheel and eventually I
could smell burnt rubber. The smell is what crossed the line. I pulled over to
check it out and it was not too surprising to find that my tired was destroyed.
That is when the break down began.
“What am I going to do? I can’t change my own tire in the freezing cold. Not to
mention I would literally have to lay in the road to do it and I am on a highway!”
Inevitable tears started falling.
I called local friend #1. No answer. “I’m going to die out
here,” I thought. I called local friend #2. He could come! Coming from Driggs
would take a while though, so I sat in my car, miserable and scared.
There was a knock on my window. A
young man with a ball cap and a scruffy chin had pulled his truck over to ask
if I was okay. “I’m not okay! I have a flat tire. I am going to die,” my
dramatic brain screamed. But all I said was “My friend is coming to help I
think.” This young man had to continue his voyage but he said he would stop
back by if I was still here when he was done with his errand. He advised me to
call my insurance.
I called my mom to get insurance
information. The signal was terrible and I couldn’t receive any texts from her.
The whole evening just got more and more devastating to my sensitive girly
side.
As I sit in waiting, I see a snow
plow in my rear view mirror. “Oh no. I am going to get blasted with snow,” I
thought. The snowplow got closer and closer. I worried I would be in trouble
for being in the way. But then the snowplow started to slow down. It came to a
stop right behind me with its lights brightly whirling.
A man got out of the plow; a tall,
grey haired man with a goofy hat and a reflector vest. After explaining the
situation, he enthusiastically offered to change my tire “real quick.” Little
did he know.
This man, lets call him Franks, got out my spare and my
tools and began to get the lug nuts off of the tire. The small talk was
comforting and all was well until two of the lug nuts would not budge. Threw
all his best efforts, pushing, pulling, stomping, standing, there was no
movement. He was beginning to bend my tire iron!
He ended up calling for back up.
And when I say back up, I mean it in a literal sense. Before I knew it, a
sheriff was there; busting a sweat with a star tire iron he had brought trying
to get my lug nuts off. The parked patrol car, parked behind the snow plow, had lights blaring scaring
all passing cars into the far lane.
As these two grown men continued to
try to get my tire off, the idolized, prized, star tire iron, broke. That’s
right. The socket of the iron just broke in half.
At this point, the young man in the
baseball hat had returned (oh what a night in shining armor) with his dad.
Before I knew it, they had borrowed a lug nut and drove away. Claiming they
were going down the street to get another tool, I was simply scared they
wouldn’t come back with my lug nut.
Frank, Sheriff and I waited as the
cold crept through my thin clothes and straight to my bones. Sheriff noticed
how cold I was and casually said, “Go ahead and sit in the patrol car and keep
warm. Just climb in the drivers side and crank the heat.” HAHA. What? Trying
not to be giddy as a fool, I calming walked passed the snowplow to the patrol
car. Of course I can’t help pretending I am a larger-than-life hard-core police
officer walking away from an explosion to rest in my trusty patrol car.
Sitting in the car was great. The
lights were on and cars that were roaring by would get in the other lane just
because I was there is my (his) patrol car. I took and couple of obligatory
Snapchat videos and selfies to send to my friends and I enjoyed the sauna I had
created in the mist of cold dark night.
Soon after, the knight in shining
armor returned, with two trucks and another man. One of the two trucks had
yellow spinning safety lights at the top. At this point there was a line up of
5 cars on the side of the road: my car, a truck, a safety truck, a snow plow,
and a patrol car; three of them with lights blaring, all trying to help me
change my tire at 10:30 at night.
