Calamity Kate

Wait 'til you get a load of this post. I think it might top my first trip to the Trading Post. You'll have to decide. Let's just start with these simple facts.... I left home at 6:40 pm CST and the GPS said I'd arrive at the TP around 9:55 pm EST. 2 hours and 25 minutes (of which I usually shave off 10). I arrived at 12:45 am EST. Yes... 5.5 hours later! Before I get into the gory details, here's a little background information that is essential to understanding the 5+ hours of ensuing drama that took place this evening.

Background Information:
Nathan and I have 3 vehicles... well 4 if you count his motorcycle.
1. Nate's handy old pick up truck (which is quite useful for trips to Home Depot, picking up furniture or helping friends and family who are moving and need to borrow your truck and trailer.)
2. My I'm-going-to-grad-school-full-time-and-can't-afford-my-car-payment-anymore-so-I-need-something-affordable-and-dependable 92 Acura Legend coupe with the "original" sound system (translation-a tape player and shotty, half-blown speakers)
3. Nathan's 91 Acura Legend which we purchased trying to follow the principles of Dave Ramsey and "live like no one else today, so we can live like no one else tomorrow" by buying a car we could pay cash for.

Nathan took the truck up to the Trading Post because he felt he needed it more than a car. So that left me with 2 sweet rides sitting in the garage. I drive my car most of the time because it's much smoother (and sportier... did I mention it has a spoiler! ooohhh, ahhh). I usually take Nathan's car to the Trading Post or other longer drives because it has all the gadets in it. Gadgets include: GPS, new sound system with an iPod jack, in dash CD, multi gadget AC adapter so I can simultaneously operated GPS, charge iPod and light cigarettes (just kidding on that one - it has a space for more gadgets). His car also has 4 doors which makes loading all of the junk I haul from home each week much easier.

So in a nutshell, here are the pros for driving Nate's car to the TP:

1. Gadgets galore
2. Four Door
3. ummm, that's it and I can't think of any other -ore rhymes

But... the Cons:

1. Ghetto tint job. The back window is all bubbly and difficult to see out of when driving at night.
2. Not as smooth a ride as mine when traveling at speeds in excess of 70 mph
3. Shady remnants of what was either a break in or drug lord get away vehicle. The remnants include: possessed automatic lock system that keeps locking and locking itself (it once locked Nathan out of the running car when he hopped out to fill a For Sale sign box with fliers), dented rim around driver side door frame where it appears someone tried to hanger-jimmy the possessed lock, weird wires hanging from console below the steering wheel.
4. Wooly seat covers necessary to cover up "vintage" upholstery.

Well, despite the lengthly list of cons and a weird feeling about taking Nathan's car, I decided to load it up anyway because it is just easier to jam everything in the 4 doors and I wouldn't have to transfer the gadet docking station to my car. So all loaded up and ready for the road, we roll out of the driveway around 6:40 pm. GPS says we should arrive at the TP at 8:55 pm (9:55 TP time).

So off we go, I fire up the iPod and sing my little heart out for a few miles. Then decide to make a few calls. One to my mom and then a quick check up on my brother Tim who moved to Portland for seminary last week. Forshadowing moment here folks... While talking to my mom I told her I don't like driving Nathan's car for the aforementioned reasons and say... "I think we should sell it."

About a 100 miles into my journey, and right at the tail end of the call to my mom... Boom, nothing but red tail lights for MILES and MILES. I'm trapped on I-40 in creepy crawly, would be better to just stop than inch forward, break, inch forward, break FOR TWO AND A HALF HOURS. My "arrival time" keeps moving back and back and back. I seriously think I traveled less than 10 miles in all that time. Miserable. The animals were good, but getting restless. We finally broke through the traffic and were rolling again by 10:00. Mind you, we left Nashville around 7:00 and we're just going through Carthage.

As we're finally rolling along, I notice the trunk light is on and see the trunk flapping in the tailwind. So I pull off on the first exit ramp I see. It's the Center Hill Lake/Evins Park exit #268. I just pull down to the side, forgo the emergency flashers because it will be fast, quickly hop out and carefully close the door so the dogs don't escape, run back to slam the trunk, and head back to the driver's door to find that IT'S LOCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Keys in ignition, car running, dogs barking, air running, CELL PHONE ON THE DASH. I'M STRANDED! No gas station on this exit, no street lights, nothing. NO ONE IN SIGHT. PANIC. MAYDAY, MAY DAY.

I'm banging on the window and begging Mo to roll the window down or Pete to unlock it. Pete is our safety patrol in the car. He always locks the doors when we begin a trip. Mo is our un-safety patrol. He likes to stand on the power window switch while we're flying down the interstate and let in some fresh air... Can't this be one of those moments? Come on, Mo... work your magic. I'm trying to think of some type of McGuyver move here... improvise an explosive device with my flip flop, earring and drawstring from my sweat pants? Find a rock to break the window?

Eventually a car wanders down the ramp and I run up and babble about my trunk and my car locking and my dogs, phone and keys stuck inside. Friendly man helps out by calling highway patrol. He stays with me and makes small talk while waiting for THP (why couldn't it be CHiPS?) and his family who is trailing behind to pull up on their way to the Lake. Amazingly enough through the small talk, I learn they are from Brentwood and he is a fellow Bruin (class of '87), his son is in 4th grade (which I teach) at Scales (where I once taught) and his wife is a nurse just like my mom. Small, small world. I think if we had been stranded longer, we would have found more common ground.

Meanwhile, Mrs. '87 Bruin's cell phone rings and it's the dispatcher who says that none of the THP or county patrols in the area have lock popping capabilities. He says to try to call "Jerry's Towing" and ask for Jerry, he's close by and can pop a lock. I call Jerry only to find out he only takes cash (Uh Oh, I spent my last $20.00 cash on a Starbucks this morning and some books at McKay's this afternoon) AND as I tried to connive some kind of payment arrangement, we realized Jerry was 10 miles back into the traffic jam so he couldn't even help if he wanted to(which he clearly didn't). '87 Bruin hops back on the cell phone and pleads my case to the dispatch while Mrs. '87 Bruin and I fashion a pop-a-lock out of a wire hanger and try to jimmy in the spots where the car had clearly been jimmied before. All the while Pete is barking his crazy bark and Mo is clawing at the window. I'm begging Mo to put the window down. It's so simple, Mo, you do it all the time.... Come on Mo! Meanwhile, Molly escapes the meilei by hopping in the rear window for little snooze. Junior '87 Bruin (I guess he would be '17 Bruin eventually) decides he needs to pee. Somewhere in the desperation, the rear passenger window goes down about 3 inches. Mo scrambles over and I beg him again to push the button! We are so excited and can see the lock within our reach only our arms are too big to fit through. So here comes Junior Bruin to save the day.... he is scared at first because Pete is rushing the window with his maniacal barking and big mouth baring all of it's teeth. I lure the dogs to the driver side so Junior Bruin won't be scared, but he decides to use this task as a negotion tool with his parents and says if he puts his hand in there maybe they can get that game he wants or some other mumbo jumbo. Pete and Mo are growing tired of me tapping the window to keep their attention and the pressure is on for Junior Bruin who finally pulls through and pops the lock... We're in and it only took 45 minutes. After many thanks and well wishes, I dash back onto the interstate. Less than 70 miles to go. I see a missed call from Nathan and try to call him back only to go straight to voicemail. I call back a billion more times and finally decide to leave a panicky, teary, whimpering message about the events of the night and ends with something like "I hate this stupid car and we're getting rid of it because I'm never driving it again!"

Well, there you have it. I arrived safely, but not quite soundly in due time. This is the honest truth...no jokes, no exaggeration for comedic effect (well, maybe one or two). Worse than the first car crisis?? It's hard for me to say. Both inspired an equal amount of panic and helplessness. I can't believe my life.