Old Reliable

"What did you call your Suburban at the beginning of this road trip?"  Rachelle asked.  She isn't looking at me, or the thin stream of smoke that trickles through the air vent.  No, my fiery little Yankee friend is staring out the passenger window at what is best described as God's country.

 

But, according to Google maps, it's where in God's country?

 

"Look, it may not be that bad.  We can just sit here, let the engine cool down for a while.  How does that sound?"

 

She turns around quickly.  "It sounds like someone is in denial.  That's how it sounds. "

 

I pull the keys and deposit them onto the console.  I really need to pee.  But there isn't a WaWa or a Buckeys in sight.  There is a nice big maple or oak, hell,  I don't know what kind of tree it is.  But, I think better when my bladder is empty.

 

"Don't go anywhere.  I'll be right back."

 

I can tell she didn't get the humor in statement.  But, here's why she's so mad.  She offered to drive.  She had this nice new foreign job that she offered to drive us in.  Truth be told, I'm a Virgo.  Control freak, perfectionist, have to be right, all the lovely components of my horoscope sign.  I like to, no, I hate to drive but I hate being a passenger worse.  (I'm guessing by the amount of anger radiating from Rachelle, she's a Leo or worse, a Scorpio.)

 

So, once I'm positioned behind the tree and I've taken care of the paperwork (thanks to some napkins in the glove box) I walk back to the Suburban. 

 

It's time for the moment of truth. I pop the hood.  After much struggling I get the metal stick thing situated so it doesn't fall and decapitate me, I peer around.  It is then that I realize, I have no idea what I'm looking at.  Zilch.  Chuck, my husband always takes care of car repairs.  Come to think of it, I've only put gas in the car a handful of times.  I touch a few hoses and tap some black square thing just to make Rachelle think I'm trying before removing the prop and letting the hood slam shut.

 

"I'm not sure what's going on, could be a couple of things.  Either the radiator overheated  or it's the flux capacitor."

 

"Did you just quote Back to the Future?" she stares at me wide eyed but finally she smiles. 

 

I breathe a little easier.  "I'll call AAA."

 

"I'm gonna stretch."  Rachelle unhooks her seat belt then checks her reflection in the tiny mirror on the passenger visor. "You want a water from the cooler?"

 

I nod absently as I scroll my phone contacts for the 800 number to AAA.  Once I find it, I hit call.  Nothing connects.  I try Chuck's number, I'll give him our location and he can call for me.  Nothing.  There is no service to be found.

 

Remember when I said I was a Virgo, a control freak?  Well, this Virgo was very, very out of control.  It is not a good place to be.  Not for me, not for anyone within the vicinity.

 

"Come on, damn you, just connect!" I snap at my phone.  Yes, I know it's an inanimate object.   But I'm one of those people.  I think static charged papers and plastic stick to me on purpose.  I have little to no patience and feel like I'm about two minutes from a full mental breakdown.

 

"It's really pretty here," Rachelle calls out.  "Guess it's better than breaking down on I95."

 

I nod, gulping down calming breaths, trying to stay calm.  I look around, hoping to see it like she does, but all I see is we are in the middle of nowhere.  Bad stuff happens in the middle of nowhere.  Bad stuff happens to women who travel alone in the middle of nowhere.

 

That's when I start to cry.  Not a soft whimper, dabbing my eyes.  No.  I am bawling like Lucy when Ricky Ricardo tells her she can't be in the show.

 

And, until I can regain my composure, I'm turning it over to Rachelle.