One of my fears in all the years I’ve traveled with my kids is getting stuck in a situation where I have no control and fear for our safety. Unless absolutely necessary, I don’t ride in taxis. I plan ahead. I have backup plans.
On many a long roadtrip on desolate stretches, I’ve feared for a breakdown. What would I do? I have no plan, no backup.
Last night, as the girls and I pulled out of Trader Joe’s on Monroe, right here at home, I could tell that something was wrong with the car. Do I push it to get home, or do I stop? It was bad enough that I knew if I didn’t stop, I could make the situation much worse. Cutting across a lane of impatient traffic, I pulled into the Shell at Monroe and Ponce, finding it to be the most well-lit place at that intersection.
Yep, flat as a pancake tire.
Okay, I can handle this. And, as luck would have it, an Atlanta cop was putting air in a tire. Deep breaths.
Immediately, I was approached by a man offering to help. He was disheveled, and clearly not quite “right”. His speech was erratic. His pants were about to fall off. As I had already opened the hatch to move out the groceries to get the spare out, he dove right in and started ripping the panels out. The Atlanta cop? Walked away. Thanks, dude.
My “helper” proceeded to rip out every panel, even ones that probably are not supposed to be removed, in search of the jack. I had Camille talk to Rob, just to have *someone* on the line as I was in fear that the situation could turn worse. While he may have good intentions, I don’t think he was in a “rational” state of mind. What would happen if things didn’t go his way? Would he become violent?
As he worked on getting the bad tire off, he kept up a stream of chatter: the right way to take off a tire, how the cops hate him, how he’d have me back on the road in 10 minutes, how my car (an 11 year old Subaru) was a nice one. After the tire was off, his “friend” showed up to help. I felt that the situation was getting even further out of my control. Was I going to get scammed somehow?
But, at last it was done, and from what I could tell, dome well enough to get us home. The first guy asked for money and I gave him what I had, $15, telling him it was all that I had. He then asked for more, but I didn’t have more. As quick as I could, I got me and the girls in the car and got out of there. Shaken, but fine.
What have I learned? I’m not sure yet. But at minimum:
- I need to learn more about minor car repairs/maintenance. It is actually an item on my “Happiness Project” already.
- I need to take a self-protection class. I am already signed up for TWO in the new year.
- I have “emergency contacts” for the girls, but maybe I need some for myself as well.
- I may not always have a concrete backup plan, but even when things go wrong, we’ll figure out some way to manage.
