Today the girls and I went north 30 minutes for a doctor's appointment. After the visit we shopped at the nearby mall, had lunch, ordered some Starbucks (the girls had iced drinks, no coffee) and headed home. I had been driving about 5 minutes and was on a busy street (a street that, along with another street, made the #1 most dangerous intersection in the US list) about 2 car lengths from an intersection when my van died. Just stopped. Dead. In the middle of the center lane.
The light at the intersection was red at the moment, and I tried to restart my car. Nothing. I tried again. I like to think I was calm and rational. Usually in these situations, and unfortunately there have been a few, I panic. Remembering this, I took a deep breath, set down my peppermint mocha thousand-calories-that-I-don’t-need Starbucks coffee and tried one more time to start my car.
No, go. On the dashboard, a picture of a red oil can with a drop of oil coming from its spout lit up. I assumed that meant my van had an oil problem. I shut off the car and was stranded in the middle of a four-lane road a foot from an intersection…with two children.
Then I panicked. A little. I yelled, “Why is this happening? What do I do? What do I do? AAAAHHHH!” Talking to myself. A little pep talk if you will.
Then I calmly reached for my cell phone and dialed 911 because I have been taught to do that in emergency situations, and in my mind, sitting in a stalled car with two children while cars raced around me in hopes of making the light at the intersection in front of me, constituted as an emergency.
The 911 operator was quite helpful. She asked me if I had been involved in an accident and when she heard that wasn't the case she told me to stay on the line and she connected me to the city police non-emergency number.
Non-Emergency Lady: How can I help you?
Me: My car just died in the middle of (named) Rd. at the intersection of (named) Rd.
Lady: Is that (named) Blvd. or Rd?
Me: (looking up at the sign hanging over the street) Road.
Lady: Is your car heading East or West on (named) Rd?
Me: I was heading West.
Lady: Are you East of (named) Rd. or West of (named) Rd?
Me: (in my head) Jesus Christ Lady, who the hell cares? I’m about to be hit in the rear so could we speed things up a bit?
Me: (aloud) I am East of (named) Rd.
Lady: Have you been involved in an accident?
Me: No. My car just died. I have two children with me and the smell of gas is overpowering. Perhaps I should get out of the car.
Lady: Yes, carefully vacate the vehicle. The police will be there shortly.
At some point in the middle of this conversation, a woman appeared at my window with a cell phone. I assume she was from the apartment complex next to the road, but I don’t know. She was bringing me a phone, and after seeing I had one she stayed there with me throughout my conversation. When I finished, she helped me get the girls out of the car and together we dodged the traffic and got safely to the sidewalk. Looking back at my van flashing its hazards and sitting sadly alone in the middle of the four-lane road, I noticed a huge stain slowly spreading its way out from underneath my van. A stain that smelled suspiciously like gasoline.
The kind lady left me after I told her I was calling my Motor Club to get towing. The girls perched themselves on top of the fence that lined the sidewalk while I searched frantically for my Motor Club card. My hands were shaking, but after three searches I could not locate the card in my wallet. I did the next best thing. I called my husband. When will I learn?
Tom: All of the insurance information is in the car.
Me: I just need the Motor Club number. I can’t find mine.
Tom: We don’t have that service anymore. Our insurance company has roadside assistance.
Me: Oh, that’s why I can’t find my card. Okay, well I’ll call the insurance company.
Tom: All that information is in the glove compartment in the van. Why would you get out of the van?
Me: Uh, because it is leaking something that smells like gas and is sitting in the middle of (named) Rd.
Tom: Yeah? So why would you get out of the van?
The conversation probably would have continued in this vein for hours, but a lawn care truck with three men in it offered to push my car off of the road and I hung up. They were in the left turn lane so two of the men jumped out and joined me on the sidewalk while the driver did a U-turn and parked in the lot of a BP station eight lanes over.
The guy in charge had one working eye and one eye that might have been working, but it was working in a different place from his other eye. When I told him the police were on the way he scoffed and rolled his good eye. The other eye continued looking at me.
Take charge guy wanted to know if one of my kids could get in the driver’s seat and steer across two lanes of traffic to the left lane and make a U-turn and then another turn into the BP station without the benefit of power steering. Uh, what? I wondered if I was suppose to be involved in the pushing of the van while my kid drove, but I didn't inquire. Instead I told him that wasn’t going to happen. He suggested I steer instead. I agreed.
At this point, take charge guy started out into the road. A car sped past him, narrowly missing his feet and he jumped back onto the sidewalk and told his partner, “You stop traffic.” His partner and I leaned out over the sidewalk and looked up the road at the cars racing toward the intersection. Neither of us said a word, but neither of us made any move toward taking him up on that suggestion.
Instead, we waited a few minutes, and when the light turned red, we left the girls and trudged out to the car. I got behind the wheel and they got behind the car, and we made it into the left turn lane despite cars honking and people throwing up their arms. We had to wait through a full cycle of lights before getting the green turn arrow, and with take charge guy yelling for me to, “turn, turn, turn,” we made the U-turn and rolled into the BP station. The smell of gas was so overpowering by this time that two customers walking into the store commented on it.
I didn’t have any money to give these guys, but take charge guy assured me that they were happy to help and they drove away. I then had to go to the crosswalk and walk the eight lanes back to my children. They met me in the middle, and we got safely back to the BP station and to the car. I called the insurance company. My husband arrived. The police did not. The tow truck company called me.
Tow truck person: It will be about 35 to 40 minutes as the driver has to stop and fill up on fuel.
Me: Okay.
TTP: What is the car doing right now?
Me: (looking over at my car) Uh, it is just sitting there. (begin laughing as I realize the absurdity of this conversation) Well, he isn't having tea with the car next to him!
TTP: (laughing) I guess I should have phrased that differently.
The absurdity of the day continued, but the van did get towed, and we did get home. I was furious that the police never showed up. I was so annoyed that I ranted and raved all the way home arguing with my husband, who thought dialing 911 was stupid because it wasn't a police situation. In fact at one point he told me I was lucky they hadn't shown up as they would have ticketed me! For driving a faulty car! What?
Our argument annoyed him so much that he called his office, the sheriff's office which is where 911 operates, and he asked a supervisor what the sheriff's procedure is on a citizen who has car trouble in the middle of the road. Guess what? The sheriff's office sends out a deputy who assists in calling a tow truck, helps get the car off of the road, and stays with the citizen until said tow truck arrives! That answer alone saved my day.
And the problem with the car? A broken gas filter. Who knows how many dollars of gasoline poured out on to the street while my van sat there. But all is well......for now.
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