After a very nice, not nearly long enough holiday weekend, I was forced to come back home and get back into reality and the working world.
I headed home Sunday afternoon, and was that a flippin' nightmare. A drive that would normally be a little bit over two hours took me five. Traffic was terrible...honestly, I haven't seen traffic like that in the middle of the mountains in PA in years. And years. When I finally got to within an hour of home, my type of luck proved overpoweringly strong and vengeful. I believe that the luck gods looked down on my very happy weekend and said, “enough! No! Too much!” and shot a lightning bolt from the sky with bad aim (I think the luck gods might get a little tipsy on football Sunday too). On one hand, I could feel blessed as I wasn't struck down by their fury, but I don't...my poor tire took the wrath of their fury and decided at 75 miles an hour to go flat.
This is my third flat tire in two months. These are really expensive tires. This does not please me. (And that is also a story for another time).
With no other option, I pulled over along the side of I80 and called AAA (I hate changing a tire at the side of a highway). AAA told me it would take about an hour to get a truck out to me. I decided I wasn't that opposed to changing a tire at the side of the road after all. After a fun filled weekend of shopping, my trunk was loaded...I mean PACKED. I had to take bags, boxes, and bottles and for all that mattered at that point, a fully grown live unicorn out of the trunk and move it all to my back seat so I could get to my spare. I thought that surely after doing that that the truck would show up to tow me, and I would have to hit him repeatedly with a candle or something now in my back seat. Mr. Unknown Truck driver doesn't know how lucky he was that he didn't. I got the tire and all the fun stuff out and started getting the lug nuts off of the tire. I got stuck on the last one. Couldn't budge that bastard to save my life. After screaming and yelling and cursing up a blind streak that would make a trucker blush, and throwing a tantrum to rival that of most two year olds, I was saved by an angel in a Steelers sweatshirt and a van. This non associated with AAA man pulled over in front of me and the following conversation took place--
non-AAA angel man, “do you need some help with that miss?”
crazed woman at the side of the road with gravel in her hair from a tantrum (now known as crazed woman), “depends, you an axe murderer?” (A girl can never be too safe)
non-AAA angel man, “ummm”, visible confusion, “no.”
crazed woman, “in that case, yes, yes I do.”
Non-AAA angel man proceeds to change my tire. I loved him and would have bore his children at that point.
When he was nearly done, he finally looked at me and asked, “what would you have done if I told you I was an axe murderer?” I told him that I figure if he gave me the opportunity to ask, that I would have asked to hold his axe until he was finished with the tire and safely back in his own vehicle and rolling away. He laughed, I thanked him profusely, and he got back into his vehicle and drove away without putting an axe into my brain.
I managed to go the 50 or so miles to home on a donut tire with out incident except for a number of asses who kept riding my bumper and flashing their high beams because they apparently don't know that 4 ways blinking means hey, I'm having some kind of issue here that is forcing me to drive slower than I want to. I imagine some jackass finally passed me screaming about the dumb broad driving down the road with both turn signals on who can't drive for shit.
The events of the night sent me off to days gone by...right to a night that brought to me another flat tire.
I was dating a very nice guy, Shawn, who had a dickhead of a roommate, Jamie. Jamie has nothing whatsoever to do with this story, but he was a dickhead and it makes me feel good to say that to this day. Haha.
The night I was reliving was a warm evening 10 or 12 years ago. Shawn and I had a date and he was taking me to State College. This was well before the new highway was built and those of you from the area will remember what the road between Altoona and State College was like at that point. When we were far enough along the road to be nowhere, we got a flat. There we were stuck, me in a skirt and top, him in khaki's and a nice shirt. Not a cell phone to be had(of course, I don't remember many of us having cell phones back then), no light to be found, but plenty of muck and mud. I slipped and skinned my knee in my frenzy to not get dirt on my clothes as he was pulling the spare from the trunk. He stopped what he was doing to clean me up with a bottle of water and a towel, which may have been when he realized he was going to be filthy trying to pull this one off, so he took his shirt off to change the tire. There we were...a match made in heaven...me bloody and muddy, him shirtless and well, hot.
But for one little problem...he couldn't get one lugnut loose. He fought and sweated, I made an attempt to help, and it wasn't going to move. Just as we had given up hope and decided we were going to be forced to brave the wilderness, a van pulled over in front of us and asked if we needed help. Shawn thanked him and he walked back to us which was when I noticed the man didn't have a hand. He had a hook. I swear to all that is holy he had a HOOK! Not only did he have a hook, he had a number or pipes and poles in the back of his van he used as leverage to get that bolt undone because he couldn't move it either. With his hook. Though I was mildly freaked out...dark night, lonely road, injured girl, and a shirtless guy when suddenly out of the blue the hook man shows up to help...I never once thought to ask him if he was an ax murderer. Never even crossed my mind. You would think that if ever I were to ask a person, “hey, are you an ax murderer?” that it would be the man with the hook hand. But no. Not in my little world. I ask the guy who shows up in a Steelers sweatshirt. I've decided that I am going to blame the movie I Know What You Did Last Summer. It wasn't released until some time after that evening.
Sadly, the date never did happen that night. We turned around and grabbed a pizza and drank our sorrows away.
I haven't thought about that night in quite some time. I hope he hasn't found himself stranded in a similar situation since. The next hook man might just be a crazed killer. I'd like for him to be safe and happy today.
